


Mimicry

by lifehappenedtome



Series: Mimicry [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Drug Use, Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, POV Lucifer, POV Sam Winchester, PTSD, Paranoia, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Stalking, Violence, and some fluff, no Samifer non-con, sexual abuse is NOT between Sam and Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 90,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifehappenedtome/pseuds/lifehappenedtome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thrown out of his own family and left in a dubious sort of group home, Lucifer's closest relationship is the semi-friendship with his roommate Castiel. That is until a familiar face walks through the door. And maybe he gets a bit too obsessed with the captured runaway looking to escape his family's lifestyle.</p>
<p>Between Castiel's drug use, gang wars among the teenagers and everyone's search for a place to belong, Lucifer uses all the wrong tactics to gain Sam over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sam/Lucifer Big Bang 2014. Please read the warnings, there's some heavy stuff in there.
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who helped me with this story, especially [MashiarasDream](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream) who beta'd everything last minute. Also thanks to [ligers-mane](http://ligers-mane.deviantart.com/) for creating this wonderful piece of art.
> 
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be read seperately. If you want to jump right into the story, feel free to start with chapter one and come back later.

„And this,” his father said, pointing at a colorful butterfly, „is another great creation. See?” He was careful when he picked the flower but the butterfly still flew up in alert. Father wasn't sad about it. With a hand on Lucifer's shoulder he spun him around and Lucifer watched as the butterfly circled their heads once before it returned to the flower in his father's hands.

There it was. So close, right in front of him. He wanted to touch it but he knew that would only scare it. So he watched. He watched, head tilted and eyes sparkling with curiosity. He studied the thin legs rubbing against each other, the strangely hairy body, the eyes that seemed too big for it, the antennae, so breakable he could rip them out with not so much as a weak tug, and the organ (which he would later learn to be the proboscis, a word too difficult for him at this time) with which the butterfly carefully reached into the flower beneath it. He took in every detail, every little thing he noticed before he finally allowed himself to take a look at the wings. One was supposed to save the most beautiful part up for the end, like a cherry on top of a cake.

It was funny that although butterflies were small, when you looked just at them for a while, the wings suddenly seemed really big. Lucifer imagined what it would be like for him to have such big wings. So big and so colorful. Not just arms. Arms were boring and there was nothing special about them. Did the butterfly like his wings? Lucifer liked them. They were brown with orange and white bars at the edges and an interesting pattern on top. Lucifer squinted. “The circles look like eyes.”

“Exactly.” His father smiled. “You’re looking at a  __Junonia coenia_ _ , commonly known as the  _buckeye_. He looks like this because nature is really clever, you know? That's evolution: Birds and other natural enemies catch sight of the wing pattern and are tricked into thinking there’s a dangerous animal and not just a harmless butterfly in front of them. They flee, so they aren’t a threat anymore.”

Lucifer nodded, still eyeing the paper-thin wings. He really wanted to touch it. Slowly, he reached out to the flower and after a while, the butterfly climbed onto his fingers and he felt a light tickling on his skin. It was exciting. He could hear his heart beat. Now the butterfly was even closer, the wings even bigger.

He must have stared at it because his father was laughing that warm laugh that meant Lucifer had done something funny or weird before he whispered, “Close your eyes.”

He hesitated. It scared him but he wasn't going to admit that. So he did as his father told him and concentrated on the feeling. There wasn’t much to feel. If it wasn’t for the tickling sensation of the moving feet, he wouldn’t feel anything at all. And even the tickling was so light. He wished he could feel it better. He tried to feel it better. But the more he tried, the less he felt and at some point he realized the tickling had stopped.

There was nothing there but warm sunlight on his skin and the uncertainty if there was still something else, too. He wondered if it was time to open his eyes. He didn't know how many seconds had passed since he'd closed his eyes but he told himself that it couldn't be that long. He waited for the butterfly to move again, to tickle his skin softly like it did before, but it didn’t. Lucifer couldn’t feel anything. Was the butterfly still sitting on his hand? Was his dad still by his side? Was there anything around him? Suddenly, the singing of the birds seemed much further away than before, the warmth was replaced by a chilly cold, everything seemed to go dark-

“Don’t be afraid.”

When he opened his eyes again, the butterfly was still there, sitting calmly on his skin. He looked up to the sky. A cloud was covering the sun.

“It’s not dangerous, remember? It just looks like it.”

Lucifer turned his head towards his smiling father. His heart was still beating too fast. He didn't want his father to know he'd been scared. But the smile on his face was calming. Somehow, Lucifer managed to calm down and think. He nodded. “I think I understand,” he began slowly, eyes on the butterfly again. He stopped for a second, careful to choose just the right words. “They are weak, so they need to protect themselves by pretending to be something they’re not.”

Hoping not to have said anything wrong, Lucifer looked back at his father, waiting for his judgment. The smile was still around his lips. He was about to say something, but before he could tell Lucifer whether he was right, he was interrupted by a high, cold voice. “That’s dumb, Lucifer. You make them sound like humans with feelings. They’re insects. They just don’t want to be eaten.”

With a frown on his face, Lucifer regarded his half brother. He looked strangely neat. Wherever he had played, he had managed to stay just as clean as he'd been this morning at breakfast table. Lucifer looked down at his own dirty pants.

It seemed like the butterfly wasn't interesting enough anymore because his father turned around. “Michael,” he laughed, “I hope you won't be eaten, either.” The sudden movement of him standing up to hug his son scared the butterfly off. Lucifer was too slow to watch it take off as it left him behind and flew away. But at least he could look after it. It was better than looking at Michael. He didn't want to see him. Sometimes Lucifer was so angry with him. If he could, he would kick him. But he knew he couldn't. Father wouldn't like it.

So he looked after the butterfly. He followed the last traces of those colorful wings with his eyes until they disappeared in the woods. Then he turned around and watched his father throw Michael into the air. It looked like he was flying.

 

* * *

 

“Can you give me the green pencil, Mikey?”

Michael looked up from his drawing, smiled and nodded. He searched his pencil case for the requested pencil and handed it over to Lucifer. When he saw what he was doing though, he frowned.

“That butterfly is not green, Lucifer.” His expression turned very serious, like this was a big mistake and Lucifer should realize he was very wrong. “I know it. Father has just shown me that butterfly. It’s a Peacock, he said.”

Lucifer shrugged. “I want to paint it green.”

It seemed like Michael didn’t like that. He stood up, and so did Lucifer. “You can’t paint it green! Father said it’s red, black and blue.”

A moment later, Lucifer's coloring book was in Michael's hands. He just stared at it for a moment. They shouldn't fight again. He didn't want to fight. He loved his brother. But it was his book. _He_ should have it, and he could do with it whatever he wanted.

“So what? I want to paint it green. It’s a coloring book, Michael!” His voice was still calmer than his brother’s. But he was getting angry.

“To learn! We paint to learn!” Michael was shouting now and Lucifer, too, raised his voice.

“I already know what it looks like, Michael!” His brother was wrong. And Lucifer threw all the mean truths at Michael, just because he knew it would hurt him. “I know what all the butterflies look like. All of them! I knew what a Peacock looks like before you learned anything butterflies! Dad showed me. He went on a walk with me alone to show me, because he likes me better. Now I want to know what a Peacock with green eyespots instead of blue ones looks like and you know father would like that. He likes experiments, he’s a scientist!”

At some point of the fight, Lucifer must have taken the book because when he looked down at his hands, he was now the one holding it. Michael just glared at him with a cold face and left the room.

Lucifer sighed, sat back down at the table and started coloring the butterfly in green, white and brown.

 

* * *

 

Mean. Other kids were mean.

Lucifer was sitting on the front porch, his school bag on his lap. He was wondering how to get rid of it. He would never go to school again, ever. At home, he sometimes fought with Michael. But at least Michael was not dumb and cruel. Not like them.

“Hey, angel of light”

He hadn’t heard his father approach him and he didn’t look at him, fearing he would notice the tears in his eyes.

“You lied to me,” was the only thing he said.

“What?” His father knelt down beside him but Lucifer still didn’t look up. “I have no reason to lie to you.”

He was still doing it. It hurt, and Lucifer kept staring at the ground. “So Lucifer is not the devil?”

There was a pause. Then, his father sighed. “He may have fallen, but he truly is an angel. God’s most loved one, actually.”

“Why did you call me Satan?” The word felt strangely satisfying on his lips. He could spit it out, spit out all the anger. It felt good.

His father was trying to put an arm around him, but Lucifer backed away. One of the butterflies from their garden sat down on his shoulder. He ignored it.

“It was the last will of your mother.”

Lucifer froze. They never talked about his mother. All he knew was that she was dead, and that another woman was now trying to replace her.

“So she hated me?”

His father hesitated a moment too long before he finally said: “No.”

Normally, father was the one who could make it all better. He was the one Lucifer could trust. Now he just felt alone. He didn't say anything. But he swore to himself he would never lie to anyone he loved.

 

* * *

 

“We can’t teach him at home. You have to work, and you know I can’t handle him.”

“I wish he could just accept the other kids.”

“He has always been weird, Eric.”

Lucifer closed the door behind him. He didn’t need to hear this. He knew what his father and his stepmother thought of him lately. What they had maybe always thought. And he didn’t need their fake love.

He sat down in the garden and ripped out some of the flowers he had once considered to be beautiful. Something had happened. They weren’t beautiful at all anymore.

Of course, it didn’t take long for a butterfly to show up. Lucifer flailed around to get rid of it but it just came back to him every time. Stupid insect.

“Hey.”

Lucifer looked up. A boy about his age was standing at the fence, watching him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like butterflies?”

He could have replied that he hated butterflies, especially his father’s. That he was sick of them, just as he was sick of the family that wouldn’t let him make his own choices. But the boy who was now climbing over the small fence had something about him that calmed him down, like his father's smile had once calmed him down. And for some reason, he didn’t want him to see his anger. So he said nothing.

The other boy had apparently been expecting an answer though, because after a moment he said: “It’s okay, I don’t really like insects, either.” He squinted into the sunlight, watching one of the Red-spotted purples flutter through the trees. “But they look nice. Especially this one!” He pointed at it. “Look at the colors...”

Lucifer followed his gaze. He didn’t want to say anything wrong, so his answer was short. “ _Limenitis arthemis_.”

“Sorry?” The boy looked irritated. He had messed it up. Now everything he could do was getting it right and running back inside, even if that meant he had to face his parents again. That's what he would have done, but he couldn't seem to move. He had to stay. And that boy still waited for an answer.

Finally, Lucifer coughed. “ _Limenitis arthemis_. That’s its name.”

The other boy’s face lit up. If Lucifer hadn’t known it better, he would have said he looked impressed. “Wow, you know its name? I don’t know anything about butterflies. I just think they’re beautiful.”

“It’s because they are searching for a partner. Butterflies have short lives. They only have one day to find mates before they lose their attraction. It’s important to recognize your perfect partner on sight when you just have one day.” He didn’t know why he had explained all this. He knew other kids weren't interested in this kind of stuff, and yet he had babbled on about it.

To Lucifer's surprise though, the other boy still looked interested. “Oh, really?” He smiled. “It can’t be too hard for this one, then. It looks so cool!”

Lucifer carefully returned the smile. “It’s my favorite, too.”

The boy nodded. “I see. How do you know all this? Are you a middle school student? You’re smarter than my brother.” He grinned. It was strange to see a kid other than his brother grin at him.

Lucifer hesitated before he said slowly, “I don’t go to school.”

He expected the kid to be confused, to ask why or to start shouting about a son’s duty like Michael always did, but he didn’t do any of that. He just laughed. “I don’t really, either. I mean, I do, but-“

“Sammy?!”

He turned his head. A teenager stood behind the fence, eyeing him warily. Lucifer stared back and immediately decided he didn’t like him.

“Hey, Dean! This is-“  _Sammy_ paused and looked at Lucifer expectantly.

No.

Lucifer studied the strange boy’s face one more time, memorizing it like he used to with the butterflies. Only the butterflies hadn’t mirrored his analyzing look. The hazel-green eyes were focused on his face, meeting Lucifer’s as they looked at each other. His features were soft and welcoming and a few strands of brown hair were pushed out of his face with a blast of air, revealing a slight frown.

It was great while it lasted. Then Sammy’s brother coughed and Lucifer turned around and walked back inside without looking back. That boy didn’t need to know his name. It would ruin everything.

They didn’t meet again that summer.

 

* * *

 

“Leave me alone.”

He pushed Michael away harshly, curling himself up into the sheets even more. His half brother landed on the ground with a thud but didn’t say a word, start to cry or make any sound at all. Michael didn’t do these kinds of things.

“Hiding in your room won’t bring him back, Lucifer.” He stood up and went over to the window to part the curtains. Lucifer remained still under the sheets where the light wouldn’t hit. He was save here.

After a moment of silence, he heard Michael sigh and soon felt a small hand on his shoulder. “Everything will be okay, brother. You will go to school with me and we will be scientists and complete father’s work just like he had planned.”

“No!” Lucifer was standing within seconds, glaring at Michael with dangerous fury in his eyes. “You know nothing,” he spat, failing to understand how his brother could trust the man who had left them without a word so blindly. “What do you even want to do? You don’t know what he has been working on. Maybe he hasn’t been working on anything. There’s nothing to do with stupid butterflies!”

Lucifer was breathing heavily with anger, his eyes skimming over Michael’s face in search for some kind of reaction, any sign of emotion. But there was nothing.

“I will not go to school and I will not go to university with you,” Lucifer finally said, turning away from him again. It was no use.

Michael kept staring at him for a long time, the ten-year-old’s face cold as stone.

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

Hands were grabbing him, taking him away forcefully.

“Let me go,” he cried, kicking and punching whoever got in his way. “Get away from me!” Helplessly, he searched for his brother. “Michael! Michael, help me!”

His brother didn't move. He just stood in the doorway, his mother behind him wearing a shocked expression and covering her mouth with her hand while she put a shielding arm around Michael. Lucifer held his gaze pleadingly. Maybe he could deliver a message. Show that he was willing to change if he needed to, that he loved his brother more than anything, just as much as he hated him.

Someone held him up and Lucifer actually screamed, his voice filling the whole street. He didn't care. The man holding him cursed and said something about only wanting to help, but Lucifer just kept trying to find his brother's eyes. He simply couldn't believe Michael had convinced his mother to send him away just like that. He could not do this to him. It couldn't be.

“Michael!” His throat hurt, his voice was hoarse from screaming, but the pain was bearable in comparison to the aching feeling in his chest. “Don't let them take me! Don't-” He tried to keep on shouting but nothing would come out of his throat. Instead, he was put into a car roughly and just as he reached out and tried to escape, the doors and windows locked.

“Jesus Christ,” the driver muttered, and Lucifer could only continue to stare at the house that had been his home, tears running down his face. The engine started and when his eyes found his brother, he was nothing more than a shadow, drifting further away with every second.

“No,” Lucifer croaked, ignoring the soothing voices around him.

 

* * *

 

He was sitting in his usual place, a rotten bench at the edge of the forest behind the building. White paper was reflecting the sunlight so penetratingly he had to squint to be able to read what Schopenhauer had to say about the world. He was right in some aspects, he thought, it really was the worst of all possible worlds, but Lucifer didn't like his reaction to it. He did not see why he was supposed to pity anyone, especially since most people didn't seem to suffer as much as he did.

A small shadow suddenly covered the words he was reading and he looked up. Of all insects, it was this particular one he hated most of all. His face hardened and he closed the book and laid it down beside him.

When he held out his hands, the butterfly sat down on his skin as if he was one of those flowers waiting to get that sweet nectar sucked out of them. Somehow, these pathetic little critters still came to him when he offered it.

After watching the slight motions of the wings for a few seconds, Lucifer closed both hands around the butterfly and smiled as he felt it thrash around uselessly, trapped in the living cage he had built for it. Maybe now it knew what he felt like constantly. He remained in that position of power for a while, closing his eyes and taking in the feeling of the panicked wing beat against his palms before he closed the space between his hands and the flickering stopped.

“You _are_ weak.”

Lucifer opened the cage and wiped the insect's remains off with a disgusted frown before he returned to his private philosophy lesson.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

It was a good day. It had all the characteristics for people to consider it good. Nice weather, warm sunshine with a pleasant breeze, and it was Friday. That alone was reason enough for everyone to wear a big smile on their face, looking forward to their either overly exciting or utterly relaxing weekends with their families and friends.

However, that wasn't the reason for Lucifer to call it a good day. He had stopped reading soon enough for him to head home before anybody else was free from school or work or whatever else they were wasting their time with. He didn't meet a single person on his way. No one was staring at him and thus daring him to stare back, no one was getting in his way and no one had the nerve to let their dogs running free, forcing Lucifer to resist the urge to send them flying across the street and into a dumpster full of rotten food and toxic toys.

During the whole walk back, he didn't encounter one living creature bigger than a coin, no other spirit disturbing his thoughts, and that was just how he liked it.

Naturally, it couldn't last. As his walk was over, so was his privacy. He found Abaddon sitting over some paperwork in the lounge when he opened the back door. She usually worked in her office but every time she lurked about on the first floor, Lucifer managed to stumble upon her. And it alarmed him every time.

“Again, Lucifer?” The woman smiled at him, her blood-red lipstick a contrast to the clinically white teeth beneath. She looked like one of those dentists who feast upon their patients' screams only to subsequently shake their hand and send them home with a few kind words and a lollipop. Lucifer had to look away. He clenched his teeth, guarding them from the dentist woman, and approached the stairs.

“You know you're my favorite,” Abaddon shouted after him, “but that doesn't mean I can hold them off forever. At least be there for your exams.”

He couldn't say anything. Dental anxiety had taken control of his body. His heart was racing and rattling like an old Impala on a desert highway while he climbed the stairs to the dorms, wishing for a stop sign. He needed to calm down. This was stupid. He forced himself to breathe in and out deeply, and after a while his eyes focused and he felt better. Luckily for him, Abaddon didn't expect an answer. After all, no doctor had ever really longed for an answer.

It was all quiet upstairs. The others were still at school, except for two grade schoolers. Lucifer went down the corridor, passing the cheap doors still assigned with numbers. Abaddon hadn't made much of an effort to transform the former small hotel into a proper group home. That gave the impression that this was just a place to pass through, and no one seemed to care that it was the exact opposite.

A moment before he reached what used to be a cupboard, a little girl in a white dress danced around the corner, the smile on her face so innocent it must have been hiding a merciless cruelty.

“Hello!” She dropped a curtsey. The way she was holding the fabric hid every dark spot.

Lucifer didn't smile back. “Hello, Lilith.”

A jump, a spin, the look of a fifty year old whore and the little girl ran off giggling into her room. Lucifer entered his before Mercury on the other end of the corridor could come close enough to notice him. Avoid all unnecessary human contact. He closed the door behind him and dropped his bag in the middle of the room before he lay down on his bed, the one on the right. This was a safe place, at least for now.

When he thought about it, It wasn't so bad. Living here. Though he was constantly surrounded by other teenagers and kids, it could have been worse. For instance, the others could be sane.

The first foster home he'd been kicked out of had been overly religious. Of course, his stepmother had chosen it, hoping they would get him to go to school regularily. They hadn't. Instead, Lucifer had set their dog free on a boring Sunday. He hated dogs, but he hated humans more. This little creature had surprised him. He hadn't returned to his abusive owners.

Everyone had assumed he'd killed him, although Lucifer had had no such thoughts at the time. But that was how he had ended up here, in Abaddon's  _ _Demon Rescue__. The dog must have been a hell hound after all.

Something was off with this place, and it wasn't the ridiculous nick name. But it had one clear advantage: No one bothered him here. He was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted, as long as he came back to his room occasionally. A small room, but just what he needed. Unlike the others, he wasn't forced to sleep in a group of four or more people. Abaddon had prepared the relatively spacious cupboard for him and the only other person he got along with, so there they were: Two beds with half a meter of space between them and a small skylight opposite of the door.

If you can't go to Heaven, get comfy in Hell. Especially when you got the queen on your side.

Lucifer was both blessed and cursed with Abaddon's affection. Most days he could deal, but there were times when painful memories made it hard to breathe and toxic thoughts ate away at his mind. He turned over to his side, facing the wall. The white, empty, dirty wall. His wall. His room. It was all fine now, and he could tolerate the longer chain until his eighteenth birthday would finally set him free. In the meantime, he would continue to educate himself and read what he thought to be worth reading, and not what any teacher told him to read. Expression of freedom in the most subtle way – a burrowed book with no instructions, and lots of time. Alone.

Two hours later, there were voices in the corridor. The door opened and his roommate and so to say semi-brother entered with a sigh, closed the door behind him and sat down on his bed. “Hey, how was school-skipping?”

Lucifer acknowledged his presence with a nod and continued to read about nervous systems. Interesting how the human brain worked. He could perfectly sense a stimulus and choose to completely ignore it. If only that worked for mosquito bites.

His roommate's staring had become less and less irritating the longer they'd lived together, and now the only question was why Castiel hadn't yet accepted Lucifer's antisocial behavior. He kept waiting for an answer and Lucifer had read two more paragraphs before he finally got out a notebook to entertain himself in some other way.

“You know what's great about your silent manner?” Lucifer heard him say in his usually deep voice. “As long as you don't talk to me, I have nothing better to do than to submit abjectly to the American school system and get some work done like the submissive civilian the government wants me to be.”

Or maybe the boy did know him better by now. Lucifer growled, closed his book and sat up to look at him, hoping for the dullness he felt to show on his face. Castiel only grinned at him, the lines around his mouth and the slight stubble making him look older than he was.

“Always does the trick.” He put the book away and pulled out a half empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Marlboro?” Lucifer asked, half interested. “Where'd you get those?” Cigarettes weren't easy to get if they didn't get them straight from Abaddon, and Castiel usually bought cheap brands with the little money he made by selling homework and essays.

“Swiped'em.” Castiel lit the cigarette and took a pull. “Abaddon was busy taking a sharp knife off Lilith's hands and left them lying on the table.” He tapped the ash off into an old jar and offered the cigarette to Lucifer. He took it. The filter was moist and it felt like the spit was absorbed by his lips. A sort of brotherhood. Castiel was a wet smoker.

“For someone who usually stays out of trouble, you take a lot of risks to get a smoke,” Lucifer said, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling it into Castiel's face. “Have you developed a habit?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows and took the cigarette back. “I don't stay out of trouble.” He took a drag, held it in for a while and then spoke with a thin voice while releasing it. “Just out of other people's business.”

He passed the cigarette back to Lucifer who eyed him through the smoke quickly filling up the small room. When the sun was still up, it was all too visible. “So you _have_ a smoking habit.”

A frown crept across Castiel's face and he looked around at nowhere in particular, like he had suddenly lost interest in the conversation he had seemed so desperate to have. “I don't see what's bad about smoking, other than that it costs money.”

“There's nothing wrong about smoking itself.” Lucifer watched the cigarette in his hands burn down, fire devouring the tobacco put in thin paper sheets to make it consumable. He didn't take another drag. “But do you really wanna be dependent on a chemical substance?”

Castiel snorted. “Better a chemical substance than another person.”

“Fair enough.”

That was pretty much the reason why they got along. What Castiel and he had in common was that they were both seeking freedom. They tried to live their own life as much as they could, being teenagers in a shady group home. Neither of them got emotionally involved with others, which led to a weird sort of relationship between the two of them that neither could quite put their finger on.

“Now gimme that.” Castiel took the cigarette from him before Lucifer had even taken a pull and a bit of ash fell down on the old carpet. He didn't pass it back again, and Lucifer didn't mind.

They sat silently for a while before Castiel spoke again. “So, wanna go to hell before dinner?”

He didn't. But he might as well, seeing as he was tired of biology and their room was too small for two people to comfortably spend a lot of time there, so he nodded and they made their way downstairs. Who knew. Maybe something interesting would happen for a change.

 _Hell_  was where half of the teenagers spent their spare time. It had once been a hotel bar in the basement and the furniture was still the same. An old pool table, a bar full of mostly empty, dusty bottles and a pair of worn out leather couches in the corner. A charming place, inhabited by the wrong people. When Lucifer and Castiel entered the room, a small group of underage rebels was already gathered on the couches.

Alastair, Azazel and Meg turned their heads when the heavy door slammed shut behind them, and Meg's face lit up.

“Come on in!” she shouted over the rock music playing in the background.

Lucifer glanced at her and walked over to the bar. After waving a hello to Meg, Castiel followed him. The beer bottle was dirty and dusty for some reason and for a moment Lucifer considered getting himself a glass before he decided that it didn't matter anyway. His lips were a sponge, soaking up all the filth, and now Castiel's spit mixed with whatever shit it was on the bottle, and it felt good, it felt right. A few gulps went down his throat while he listened to the music playing. He recognized the singer's voice to be that of James Hetfield, the front man of Metallica, but he didn't know the song. When half the bottle was gone, he licked his lips and tasted a welcome disturbance.

“Is that a new album?” The question was aimed at Castiel but he wasn't the one replying.

“Yup, Aze got it for us.” Meg was standing behind them, one hand on each of their stool backs. Her fingers were lightly touching his shoulder. But that, human filth, he couldn't stand. Lucifer leaned forward, breaking the contact with Meg, and let his gaze drift to Azazel. The boy was staring at him as if he expected some kind of praise. For once, the fourteen-year-old looked his age, even with the hoodie that hid half of his face.

“They call it Black Album. Sounds good so far.” He had to agree with her on that. He closed his eyes. The song was good, dark and so full of emotion you could almost physically feel it. A shouting voice, hateful lyrics, dirty guitar riffs, and all of it was hammering against the walls, trying to break free, and any moment there would be a deafening BANG and everything would be crushing down, the bar would burst, the ground would break and release the true, honest, purifying hell with all its torture and a healing hopelessness, and everything would finally collapse for good.

He opened his eyes and everything was all too fine. Same old. Castiel started tapping his foot to the music, and Meg took the bait and pulled him out of his chair to dance with him. Lucifer remained still and watched Meg dragging him further into the room. They danced to the music slowly but intensely, which almost looked like some sort of ritual, had it not been so ordinary.

Lucifer never had the desire to dance with anyone, and he felt bewildered by Meg's attempts to make him join them. She kept looking at him while she threw her head from left to right with the music, and he soon averted his gaze, tired of watching the same people do the same things over and over again.

Instead, he let his eyes drift to the dirty mirror on the wall. Really dirty. So dirty it almost fit his face. Lucifer regarded himself, aware again of the intimidating yet calm expression he was constantly wearing. Strangely enough, it didn't put off his  _followers_  enough for them to stop trying to befriend him. They knew it was mostly thanks to Lucifer that they got to hang out, drink, smoke and use the cassette recorder down here. That apparently gave them a reason to worship him, and mysterious rumors about his past were circulating. Nothing they whispered to each other was true – Castiel was the only one who knew about his father – but Lucifer didn't deny any of it. It did the trick of scaring most people off, so at least he wasn't bothered by anyone.

Lost in his thoughts, Lucifer almost didn't notice how the songs went by and he barely perceived the muffled voices coming from Azazel and Alastair. He was interrupted just when another song ended and Meg and Castiel stopped dancing. The door swung open and Lilith jumped inside, quickly followed by Ruby.

“Dinner's ready!” she exclaimed before she ran to the couch and sat down on Azazel's lap. “They made meat soup. I think it's a special day!” Lilith laughed and put her arms around Azazel's neck, who stroked her back brotherly and whispered something into her ear. It was still a strange image, a little girl and a teenage boy so close. Their intimacy had irritated Lucifer when they had first arrived here, but he had come to learn that the two of them were more like sister and brother than anything else. After all, Azazel had taken care of Lilith when they had still been living on the streets.

Ruby, walking towards them with a sigh, looked stressed out and a bit pissed. Nothing new here, either. She ran her fingers through her hair and sat down two seats from where Lucifer sat.

“That girl...”

Meg grinned at her, apparently amused by the state Ruby was in. She sat down on the stool between them, quickly glancing at Lucifer before she turned around and he couldn't see her face anymore.

“What did she do now?”

Ruby gave an annoyed snort. “Fucked around with the raw meat. It was all over the kitchen floor.”

Meg laughed, and Lucifer smiled mildly. Except for Castiel, Lilith was the one he liked best of all the people he lived with. There was something about her. Like she actually had a demon inside her. The reason for her nick name, actually. Meg had called Lilly that first, thinking it was funny to have _"a Lilith for our Lucifer"_ , and nobody even knew what Azazel's real name was anymore.

“Come on,” Meg laughed, “don't act like you didn't like the idea.”

“That's not the point.” Ruby glanced over to Lilith, who was now placing a kiss on Azazel's cheek. “She's supposed to behave when Abaddon's around. It's always me who gets the blame.”

“Yeah” Meg shrugged. “That's because you act like you're her mother.”

Ruby sighed, as if to say 'I know', and stood up. “Come on now, we're supposed to get all of you upstairs quickly. Come on, Lil.”

Lilith jumped up from Azazel's lap and ran straight into Ruby's arms. The older girl seemed surprised but after a moment of hesitation still embraced the little girl.

“I'm sorry, Ruby,” Lilith pouted and Ruby sighed again.

“It's fine. Now, come on.”

Lucifer wondered if it was just an act, or if Lilith had actually fallen back into the childish innocence that made you feel so very sorry for such small incidents. He never knew with that girl. When he turned his head, Castiel was standing beside him, gesturing towards the door. Lucifer nodded and they both exited the room.

Lilith was right. There was something unusual going on today. Either the foster home would be checked up on, or there was a new kid arriving today. Abaddon was wearing a nun's habit, the perfect disguise she always wore when people came looking. Her partner Cain was there too, even though he rarely showed up at all these days.

“Listen, all of you.” Abaddon stood up from her table, the perfect dentist smile on her lips. The chatting among the children stopped and Abaddon's voice filled the silence. “Today, you are going to welcome two new children to your home. They will be here any minute. I ask you all to behave suitably.” She sat down again, her eyes skimming over the quiet faces.

Needless to say, no one spoke up loudly again. They all knew they were lucky to be living here. Most of them would rather stay here where they had their freedom than in a (genuinely) catholic foster family, where they would be controlled. More than that, the majority of them did not want a family in the first place. The only thing that could even lead to some sort of family bonding here.

Lucifer let his eyes wander to Castiel who was sitting on the other side of their small table. The other boy was wearing a frown, seemingly in thoughts.

“More children? Where is she gonna put them?” he said, his voice low.

Lucifer merely shrugged. “As long as she doesn't put anyone else in our room, I don't care.” The only thing that bothered him was that there were now going to be yet another two people crowding him. Then again, people were people, and what were one or two more to avoid?

Castiel gave an approving nod and they ate quietly. The doorbell didn't ring until they were almost done eating. Everyone except for Lucifer and Castiel was staring expectantly into the corridor and Abaddon walked over to open the door. The wall between the hallway and the dining hall hid the visitors from their sight but they could all clearly make out their conversation, whether they liked it or not.

“Henry! Good to see you.”

“Hello, Sister. Good to see you, too. I'm so glad for your help. So many lost children these days and nowhere to put them.”

“And didn't you bring two little angels with you today. Hello, welcome to your new home! What are your names?”

There was a pause in which Lucifer finished his meal and checked upon Castiel, who was also done eating. “Let's get out of here...” he murmured and the two of them brought their empty bowls to the kitchen. Because of that, they missed what the new boys' names were until a British voice protested loudly.

“It's not Fergus! I have already told you to call me by my last name, Crowley.”

Castiel chuckled. “So we have a Fergus among us now,” he whispered. “This place just keeps getting better.”

Lucifer was pretty much indifferent to what other people's names were and in a place like this, it was likely they would change to something mythological at some point anyway. Besides, he wanted nothing to do with them. And he really needed some time away from them all; now. “Come on, let's head to our room.”

Castiel nodded and followed him out of the kitchen, probably sensing that today was one of the days where Lucifer tried his best to avoid as many people as possible. At least that much he could mostly figure out. When he wanted to get away, he wanted to get away, and nobody should get in _his_ way. Simply as that.

Lucifer stepped inside the hallway, quickly glanced at the new kids and... froze.

He knew that face.

The boy had his head down, avoiding to make eye contact with any of them. He had grown. A lot. His hair too, it was almost shoulder-length. His cheekbones were more defined, his forehead wider and there was a sense of bitterness in his face that hadn't been there when they had first met. But Lucifer recognized him nonetheless, and he got his confirmation when Abaddon spoke to them.

“Ah! Lucifer, Castiel. Say hello to Fergus and Samuel.”

Lucifer didn't take any notice of her aside from the name she had called the new boy.

Samuel. Sam.  _Sammy._

Their eyes met for a second, but there was no recognition in Sam's eyes. They looked dull and slightly hostile. Not nearly as bright as Lucifer remembered them. Still, they were beautiful even now. Maybe even more beautiful, like an old piece of jewelry that wouldn't look half as charming all polished up. Maybe this was his kind of beauty, and maybe it couldn't be any other way.

Castiel cleared his throat and murmured into his ear. “So, are we going or not?”

Lucifer turned away reluctantly. He saw the other new guy wink at Castiel from the corner of his eye and would have thrown him an angry glare any other day. But not today.

He couldn't even really see the guy in the shadows when the light was standing right beside him. He didn't matter. What mattered was the person he had just re-encountered after so long. And now Lucifer knew why the childhood memory wouldn't leave his head. Why he had dreamed about the boy from his father's garden so many times although it had seemed like a random encounter. Because it hadn't been. It had been the beginning of something. The first person who had not given him weird looks but had talked to him and been genuinely interested was now moving into the same group home. This could not be a coincidence.

They were obviously made for each other.

  

* * *

 

 Blah blah blah. Sam wished the nun would just stop talking and show him his room. Then he could decide if he was going to stay here or try to run away again. It didn't seem like a legit place anyway. Not that he knew a lot about foster care but he thought you were supposed to run through a lot of paperwork and be put in some kind of temporary place before you were assigned a social worker who searched for a foster family willing to take you in. Or at least something like that. This place clearly wasn't following procedure.  _Great,_  he thought,  _more criminals pretending to take care of me. That's just peachy._

This wasn't how he had planned his escape from a shitty lifestyle... at all. He was also not sure if a group home really was the first place a runaway would be sent to. There had been no police, just the guy who had introduced himself as Henry telling him something about him being a lost soul who needed to be rescued. In Sam's opinion,  _he_ was the one needing help.

Sure, he had tried to run away, but there was only so far you could get with a religious fanatic on your heel. So fuck it, at least he would have a roof over his head for as long as he needed it. He could make plans about where to go from here later.

He thought about the British boy, the one who had already been locked up in Henry's car when he'd gotten there, arguing about his name. It was a welcome distraction and he almost overheard the woman addressing him again.

“So... Samuel Simmons.”

Sam silently cursed himself for taking the only fake ID with his real first name on it. It was from a time when John considered him too young to be convincingly lying about it. Now he'd never live down the douchebag alliteration of his name.

“Would you like something to eat before I show you the room you'll be sharing with the other boys?”

Sharing. So he wouldn't get his own room. Of course, what had he been thinking. After all, this wasn't a wealthy foster family but a small, rundown... something.

“No, thank you,” he finally replied, continuing to study the dirty wooden floor and thinking about meaningless things, even when the nun introduced two other boys to them... until he felt a penetrating stare on him.

He only looked up briefly to meet the other boy's eyes for a moment before glancing away again. What was this guy's problem? He looked at him like he was some prehistoric creature, fascinating and shocking at once. It was just natural that even in a very dubious group home, of course  _he_ would be the one being stared at, like in every school he had attended while still being with his father. He would be the freak again, when really he seemed to be the only sane person around.

“... Samuel?”

He realized the nun regarded him expectantly. The two other boys and Henry, the guy who had brought him here, were already gone, replaced by two other boys now standing in the hallway with them. Fergus was impatiently tapping his foot.

“Sam,” he corrected somewhat-irritated. “Just Sam, please.”

“Alright!” The woman smiled at him. It was a creepy sort of smile. “You can call me Abaddon, or Abbey if you want. Adam will lead you to your room.” Abaddon? Really? He began to wonder if this was all some sort of inside joke he wasn't getting.

Adam made a waving gesture with his hand and grinned at him. Sam managed some sort of fake smile. With a nod, Abaddon left them standing there and went back inside the dining hall, lounge or whatever the room behind the stairs was. Sam only caught a glimpse of several people his age eating before the boy next to him cleared his throat.

“Come on,” Adam said, still grinning, and went up the stairs.

Sam looked back at Fergus, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“You, too,” murmured a boy wearing a hoodie way too big for him. “I'm Aze,” he added, and that was all Sam saw before he followed Adam upstairs.

“There aren't many rooms here,” Adam said over his shoulder while he opened one of the doors. Room number three. Sam wondered why numbered rooms were even necessary. “But at least they're big.”

He was right. There were four beds in the room, with enough space between and a small closet standing by each of them. Three beds looked occupied, one had no blankets and was instead covered with magazines, comics and empty pop bottles.

Sam pointed at it. “That mine?”

Adam laughed and began removing the variety of things from the bed and onto a desk nearby, the only desk in the room, and it was already bursting with all kinds of stuff. “Yeah, sorry, we didn't know someone was coming. She never tells us a thing.”

Sam nodded and felt utterly out of place, unsure if he should help or just keep standing there. It was an awkward situation, and Sam wished he had been more persistent when trying to get away from Henry.

“So how did you end up here?” The other boy glanced at him quickly before returning to his task.

“Mh.” Sam shrugged. “There isn't much of a story,” he lied, “I got picked up by Henry and he sent me here.”

Adam smiled knowingly. “I don't think I believe you.” He was done clearing the bed and went over to the bigger closet on the other side of the room, pulling out some sheets. “There always is a story. But,” he let the bedsheets fall onto Sam's bed and smiled at him. “You can save it for later, when Bald and Curee are back.”

“Bald and Curee?” Sam raised his eyebrows. These weren't exactly ordinary names. But after Abaddon and Fergus, maybe Adam's ordinary name should be more of a surprise.

“You'll meet them later. Now put down your backpack and get comfortable.”

So Sam did.

Bald, it turned out, wasn't bald at all. He, like Adam, looked handsome and smart, though his dark combed hair made him look somewhat more mature than Adam with his blond spikes. Curee was a boy much younger than the rest of them, short and skinny with a cheeky grin curling his lips pretty much all the time. The two boys had shown up about half an hour later, and were now sitting with them on the floor.

“Sam, is it?” Bald smiled and held out his hand. Sam shook it. “Why don't you tell us something about yourself?”

Sam couldn't help but laugh at the question. “What is this, a job interview or a support group?”

Adam scoffed. “Probably a little bit of both.” He was silenced by the look Bald gave him. It was weird and awkward and Sam couldn't help but notice Adam's submission to the guy. Bald seemed to be some kind of leader around here.

Trying to avoid a conflict, Sam changed the subject. “Hey, what about your names?”

Bald turned away from Adam and smiled. “Bald is short for Baldur. Yes, our parents were crazy.”

Sam looked from Bald to Curee. “You're brothers?” For a brief moment, he saw Dean and him in Bald and Curee. It was stupid. They probably didn't have much in common besides the similar age gap. But still. Sam felt guilty for leaving his brother for only a few seconds, before the younger boy nodded and distracted him with yet another weird name.

“Mercury,” the boy grinned, “at your service!”

Sam huffed a laugh. “So what, we're Baldur, Mercury, Adam and Sam?” He found himself smiling at their conversation, the casualty of it pushing the guilt back to the back of his mind, and he was glad to feel his negativity slowly fading.

Adam laughed. “Well, _I'm_ just missing my Eve, what's your excuse?”

Mercury giggled and explained, “We've also got angels. Well, sort of. Castiel and Lucifer.” Baldur gave him a warning look, but Adam just threw an empty bottle at the kid and they were laughing again. A nice way of getting around a seemingly difficult topic. Sam was curious, though.

“There's really someone called Lucifer here?” He kind of pitied him. The poor guy must have had an awful childhood. He was glad he didn't say that aloud because Bald's face turned very serious all of sudden.

“Don't come near him. He's weird, he's a psychopath, you wouldn't wanna have to deal with him in any way.”

Okay, Sam thought, either someone had had bad experiences, or they were being the same prejudiced assholes he knew from his childhood. Whatever it was, this conversation wasn't as comfortably distracting anymore. So he dropped the topic and asked them more about the place, almost choked on his soda when they told him the name of it ( _Demon Rescue_? Really?) and listened closely to their speculations about Abaddon's illegal actions.

“To be honest, I think she lost her license years ago, when she moved us here,” Adam explained. “The only guy who ever comes to check on us is Henry, and he's just dumb for believing the crap she tells him about rescuing us and whatever else she comes up with.”

Bald agreed with him. “She also clearly has a thing for Lucifer and his folks. He can literally do whatever he wants! I bet if he asked her to make the common room into one giant bounce house, she'd do it.”

The group laughed at the mental image and Sam thought maybe he had figured out where Bald's dislike towards that Lucifer guy came from. Envy never made you like a person.

They continued to joke and laugh until they decided it was time to go to sleep and when they did, Sam felt... better. Speaking to other people his age was nice. It felt... normal. He was tired enough not to be bothered by the dirty sheets, and with his eyes falling shut immediately, he could also ignore the hunger that came with not having eaten all day. But despite his bad physical conditions, he felt surprisingly good. This was something new, something different, and although he wasn't as free as he had wanted to be, he felt like he could make something out of this.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad place after all. 

 

* * *

 

“Man, did you see the look that guy gave me?” Castiel scoffed and shook his head. Lucifer didn't listen to him. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts, and he almost missed the door to their room and walked down the stairs on the other side of the corridor instead.

“Hey, are you okay?” Castiel had the door already open and looked at him worriedly.

Lucifer said nothing. He just closed the door behind them and sat down on his bed, a frown on his face. Something had changed, significantly. Everything was different. He'd been so desperate for something to break the sad routine that was his life, and here it was.

He didn't answer for some time, weighing the pros and cons of talking about this. For all he knew, Castiel wouldn't understand. No one would. It was something he wanted to get off his chest, though, and Castiel had proven to be the most trustworthy person around him, so he began to speak. Slowly, carefully, yet not insecurely.

“Do you remember that boy I told you about, Sam?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Come on, that again? You should finally get over it, you know. He's just some boy you talked to for what, five minutes? You'll probably never see him again. Still pining for him...That's just sad, Lucifer.”

Lucifer's expression darkened and he found himself muttering, “You're the one who keeps looking for a father who was never interested in you in the first place.”

That made Castiel look hurt for a second, which was just what Lucifer had intended, but then he snorted a dirty laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right.” He threw himself onto his bed and held himself up with one elbow. “What happened that made you think of him again? I certainly hope it wasn't that Fergus guy because if he looked only the slightest bit like him, I'm judging you for the rest of-”

“It's him,” Lucifer deadpanned.

Castiel blinked. “You're kidding me, right?”

“Not  _him_.” Lucifer rolled his eyes and lay down himself, staring at the ceiling. “The other one. Tall, long hair, looked like he wanted to burn the whole place down, ...”

“Oh, that one.” Castiel visibly relaxed, his faith in Lucifer's taste evidently restored. After having processed the shock, he frowned. “Are you sure?”

Again, Lucifer glared at him. His brother should know better than to question his ability to recognize the one boy he hadn't gotten out of his head ever since they had met.

“I don't mean it like that,” Castiel clarified quickly, “it's just... it's nearly impossible, I mean, you met him where, Kansas? And now we're states away and you just happen to end up in the same shithole, years later? What are the odds? Sorry, but I'm having a hard time believing it.”

“I know how it sounds,” Lucifer said, turning to face Castiel. “But I'm sure.”

Castiel still looked doubtful. Lucifer hated few things more than people not believing him, given his name and every prejudice that came with it. “And you're not just _wishing_  for him to suddenly show up and give your life a purpose?”

“Watch it,” Lucifer growled dangerously and Castiel fell silent. He was right, though; Lucifer did have no real purpose. The only thing he could cling to was to go about things differently than his family had wanted him to. Because the last thing he wanted was being loyal to the people who betrayed him, abandoned him. What he was going to do instead, he had yet to figure out. But he didn't like people pointing out the lack of goals in his life any more than people not believing him, and Castiel knew that. That was enough provocation for anger to build up, and he needed to calm himself down.

When Lucifer spoke again, he didn't address the issue. There were more important things to talk about. “I think it has a meaning. Maybe this is why I remember him so clearly. It's like we're fated to be together.”

He looked over to Castiel who opened his mouth as if to say something but thought better of it and let out a deep breath, his eyebrows raised. Another gesture Lucifer chose to ignore. “Okay, so let's assume it's actually him. What are you going to do about it?”

Thinking about this, Lucifer furrowed his brows. But the answer was simple. He hadn't really wanted anything in a while, the boundaries of this place leaving no space for any new aims besides intellectual ones. There had been nothing concrete to long for, no desire that could have led him anywhere. He was going to act on this one.

“I'll make him mine.”

Castiel nodded slowly before he began to speak carefully. “Okay. Lucifer... I'm all for you being happy and trying to accomplish something for a change, just... take it slow. I'm not sure if that boy agrees with you about the being soul mates thing, yet.”

Lucifer smiled. “That boy's name is Sam. And he will understand soon enough.”

 

* * *

 

 Waking up was strange. It took Sam a while to remember where he was, whose bed he was lying in and why there were three other people sleeping in the same room.

Then he realized the people around him were his new roommates, and several feelings crept up inside of him. It was surreal. He was in a safe place, didn't have to worry about his backpack being taken or his throat being slit in his sleep anymore. But he was also among the kinds of people he had wanted to avoid. The plan had been to fight his way through to California, finish the remaining two years of high school and then do anything he could to get into Stanford. To finally work for real justice in the world instead of involuntarily acting in the name of his dad's twisted definition of justice.

Sitting up, he reminded himself that he could still do that. He would have had to search for a place to stay anyway, so why not finish high school here and move on to California later? At least no one in this place would force him to remove their fingerprints from a rapist's home and make sure to grab some valuables before they left, and they wouldn't drag him into the Impala to flee from the cops and leave everything behind once again, either.

They wouldn't, not like his father. But that had just been John. And Sam knew that he wasn't the only person he had left behind. He wondered what Dean was doing right now. He checked his watch. 6.30. Dean would already be up. They would be searching for him. How long was he gone now? Five days? Maybe a week? Chances were, the Impala was on some highway in this moment, on its – her, Dean would insist – way to another big city an average teenager would want to run away to.

Only Sam wasn't an average teenager, and he wasn't dumb.

He thought of the panic, the betrayal Dean must have felt once he'd realized Sam was gone. His father's anger didn't bother him as much. The only thing he was worried about was whom he would direct it at.

It was another world. For Dean and John, it was about life and death every day. It had been for Sam. And for all the wrong reasons. He didn't want this; he couldn't do this.

He looked around. The curtains were closed, shielding the room from the rays of sunshine shining through under the edges of the fabric. Adam, Bald and Curee were all still asleep. Of course, it was Saturday and most teenagers weren't used to waking up early when nothing forced them to. A nice contrast to his own family's tight schedule.

Sam got up as quietly as possible and made his way to his backpack, careful not to wake anyone. He really needed to use the bathroom, and if possible take a shower, so he grabbed his only remaining clean clothes and sneaked out of the room.

Only when he was standing in the corridor did he realize that he had no idea where the bathrooms were. Great. He decided to turn right on instinct, and as he walked along the hallway, the sound of running water reached his ears. Sam followed it to the end of the corridor, but just when he reached the doors assigned with male and female mannequins, the noise faded.

Sam just stood there in front of the door with his clothes in his hands and waited, not wanting to disturb anybody. After a minute or two, the door opened and someone stood in front of him.

The first thing Sam noticed was that the guy wasn't wearing a shirt. The water dropped from his dirty blond hair down his torso, and Sam gasped in surprise. Then he saw his eyes, ice-blue and piercing cold with a predatory look in them. If knifes could take the form of eyes, this was what they would look like. When those eyes focused on him, though, his look softened and he stopped, avoiding to crash right into him. Sam recognized the eyes as those which had stared at him when he had first gotten here and somehow, there was something else about them that seemed familiar... but he couldn't place it.

“Sorry,” the blond said, and though he wasn't quite murmuring, his voice had a mumbling tone to it. “I didn't know anyone else was awake.”

Sam slid a hand through his hair and shook his head, trying to avoid looking at him, but there wasn't really anything else in his view. “No, it's okay. If it wasn't for you I probably wouldn't have found the bathroom at all.”

The other boy's lips curled up in a small smile. “I can show you around if you want, Sam.”

It wasn't surprising that he knew his name, after all Abaddon had introduced them, but it made Sam feel uncomfortable anyway, especially because he hadn't paid attention then and thus had no idea who he was.

“Uh, thanks, but right now I just want to take a shower.” He smiled politely and moved out of the way to let the other boy through.

“Of course,” was the response, and Sam looked after him as he exited the bathroom and went to the only door without a number assigned to it. Sam let out a breath and quickly entered the empty room, like a mouse bolting into a hole in the wall right before the cat could catch it.

The whole place was kind of old and dirty, and the showers were no exception. The water wasn't hot enough and a bit more water pressure would have been nice, but it did the trick anyway. It reminded him of all the cheap motels he had spent his life in, whenever there hadn't been enough time or money to look for an apartment. Bad memories of all the fights he and his father had had crept into his mind, and Sam just tried to wash them off.

When he got out of the shower, he at least felt a bit cleaner than before and while the clothes he put on weren't his favorites, he hadn't slept under a bridge with them on, so that was something.

His hair was still dripping due to lack of a towel when he grabbed his dirty clothes, ready to leave. Opening the door though, he froze.

“Hey, Sam.” There he was again, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms folded. He had a shirt on now and his hair was fully dried, sticking up in all directions.

“Hello,” Sam tried, unsure about what else to say.

“Do you remember me?”

The question was odd, too direct and too serious. If he had grinned while asking it, Sam wouldn't have given it a second thought, but this startled him.

“Uh, yes, you're the one Abaddon introduced me to first.” If he had paid attention at the time, the situation would be much less awkward now. “I can't remember your name, though.”

The other boy nodded, his eyes half-lidded, and to Sam's surprise, there was disappointment in his face.

“Hey, I'm sorry, I was kind of messed up when I got here. I didn't really pay attention.”

“That's not what I meant.” The blue eyes found his again and he pushed himself away from the wall, stepping closer. Sam intuitively backed off into the door frame. “Sam, we've met before.”

Sam just stared at him, really wanting to get away now. Whatever this guy was up to, it intimidated him and he wished he had just looked for the bathroom five minutes later. The piercing look was still focused on him, rarely interrupted by a blink, making Sam feel exposed and more naked than he had been in the shower just a few minutes ago.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he said nervously and turned to walk away but no, that'd be too easy. The other guy stepped into his way, not quite blocking it but making it clear that he wasn't done with him yet.

“You and I are special, Sam. There's something about us.”

Taking a sharp breath, Sam stopped and looked at him. They were standing close, too close for his comfort. He could almost feel the body heat radiating from the guy and while he couldn't deny there was, well, _something_  strange, the whole conversation just freaked him out. It felt like maybe he had dreamed of a nameless someone before and somehow that someone had escaped his subconscious and was now hunting him down in reality, knowing everything and seeing into his soul while Sam didn't even know where that someone came from. But that was nuts, and if he really had met that weird guy before, he sure would remember it.

“I'm sorry but I don't know you,” he murmured. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.” And he pushed him away, quickly making his way to his room. He just wanted to get out of this whole situation. Before he was safe though, a strange thought suddenly crossed his mind. Following a feeling in his gut, he turned around once more before he opened the door.

“You're Lucifer, aren't you?”

The other boy just kept staring at him, curling his lips. Sam waited a few seconds for a response but when nothing happened, he pushed the door open. Lucifer hadn't moved an inch and was still watching him when he closed the door behind him.

  

* * *

 

For the first time in forever, their table was already occupied when Castiel and Lucifer came from the kitchen with their food for breakfast. It was a miracle that the solid breadboard in Lucifer's hands stayed there. He had the sudden urge to smack the Brit with it, splashing red jam all over his face. A growl escaped his mouth and Castiel barely held him back from walking over and telling Fergus to fuck the hell off.

“Keep calm, Luci. Remember what we practiced? Breathe.”

Lucifer glared at Castiel for using such a cheap trick on him. Instead of trying to actually calm him down, the tricky bastard jokingly provoked him, directing his anger towards  _him_ rather than towards anyone else, and he knew that he himself would be spared from any attacks.

“I am going to slit your stomach open and decorate our room with your entrails,” he growled, moving past him and towards the bigger table where Meg was discussing something with Azazel and Alastair, and Ruby was trying to teach Lilith some eating manners.

“There you go!” Castiel grinned and followed him with a disgustingly carefree attitude.

Lucifer sat down as far away from the others as possible, Castiel taking the seat next to him and one seat away from Meg.

“Look who decided to keep us company,” Meg said to Castiel. It wasn't officially directed towards Lucifer – she wouldn't dare to – although they all knew it was him she missed the most at their table. He had stopped counting the times she had carefully invited him to sit with them rather than at the small table with only Castiel.

“It wasn't much of a choice,” Castiel explained, chewing on his bread, and Meg glanced over to Fergus, replying with some meaningless babbling.

Lucifer didn't join their conversation. The day was already exceptionally bad, and it had only just started. He had been hopeful when he'd met Sam this morning before he had even thought about how to approach him, but then all had gone horribly wrong. Addressing the issue had only pushed Sam further away. Just to reassure himself, he searched the room for long, brown hair and found Sam sitting at a table with Baldur, chuckling at something he said. Of all people, why did Sam have to befriend him? Lucifer had failed on his first try.

And then this abomination had dared to sit at  _his_  table. Lucifer was still furious, and he was going to be for the rest of the day because Castiel had stopped him from letting his anger out. All of the people around him were getting on his nerves, every word they said pushing him further.

“Hey Crowley, how was your first night at  _Demon Rescue_?” Meg shouted over to the other table.  _His_  table.

The British boy turned around, his eyebrows raised. “Lovely, dear. Although I could have used some nicer company.” Lucifer didn't miss the way he glanced at Castiel. It made him sick. He wished for Castiel to be offended and give him a reason to beat the guy senseless, but Castiel only snorted and continued with what seemed to be his task of the day: Provoking people.

“So Azy and Alastair didn't give you a welcoming blowjob?” he teased, winking at Alastair.

The openly homophobic asshole gritted his teeth. “I told you to quit it with the gay jokes, faggot.”

Lucifer stood without a word and left his half eaten meal behind for someone else to clean it up. He was not in the mood for people, so the library or the forest would be his friends today. He felt like he was on fire, and he needed to cool off. If he stayed, it would devour him and then he wouldn't be able to control himself anymore. Before he left the place though, he stopped at the small table next to the intruder sitting at it.

“Fergus,” he said, voice warningly calm, “you may want to reconsider sitting at my table one more time.”

The boy's eyes went wide and his mouth opened but before he could say anything, Lucifer was gone.

 

* * *

 

Sam didn't mention the meeting with Lucifer that morning. He had the feeling it would only provoke more ranting and the relationships of other people were none of his business. Unlike his father, he knew only to interfere when one of the parties asked for it.

This way, he had a pleasant day with his roommates and only caught sight of Lucifer once during breakfast as he exited the room early and on his own. Sam didn't give it another thought. He had been introduced to some of the girls, one of them being Kali, Bald's girlfriend. There were also Jo, Anna and Bela, although she had barely even looked at him. Baldur had suggested they'd show him around town later and Jo, Anna and Kali had agreed to join them.

Now they were getting ready to leave, and Adam seemed especially concerned about his looks.

“Don't be ridiculous, Adam. You know she's not into you.” Bald was leaning against the door frame, watching Adam with raised eyebrows. Sam had to admit he looked good in his white button-down, and he wondered how he kept it clean in a place like this.

“Shut up, Bald.” Adam ran his fingers through his hair once more, the gel sticking to his fingers. Sam wasn't going to ask about whom he wanted to impress and instead watched him until he finally sighed and looked expectantly at them.

“We ready to go?” Adam asked, as though he had been the one waiting.

“Finally!” Curee shouted and ran into the corridor, where they met with the girls.

Abaddon's place was located in a shady part of town, many buildings being abandoned and taken over by homeless people. They didn't meet many people on their way, and the ones they met were already drunk though the sun hadn't set yet. After a few minutes of walking, the houses looked much friendlier and there was a nice little bakery here and a small coffee shop there.

“Look, this is our school,” Anna said, pointing at a white building.

“Not on weekends, Anna!” Curee cried, covering his ears. “Don't talk about school on a Saturday!”

Bald chuckled. “This is high school, Mercury. You don't even go here.” Curee shrugged with a grin and Bald turned to Sam instead. “What year are you in?”

“I'm a junior,” Sam replied, smiling. It still felt strange to be hanging out with these people he had only just met, but he was starting to like them. They wouldn't share any kind of deep connection with him, that much he knew. But no one ever did, and Sam was content if he could just socialize a bit. See what it was like to be normal.

As a reaction to Sam's statement, Adam and Bald moaned in union. “Anna, Jo and I are still in tenth grade,” Adam explained. “Kali and Bald are seniors.”

Sam smiled. “So I'm gonna fill the void.” It didn't bother him, being the only one of them in his year. It had always been this way, why should it be any other way now?

They kept walking, the others talking about school and other stuff while Sam kept exploring the town. Adam stopped when they came to a small playground.

“Hey, why don't we just hang out here?”

Bald shrugged. “Why not? There's not much else to show anyway. This is the library.” He pointed to the building behind the playground. “Though we don't use it a lot. Our school library has everything we need for classes.”

They sat down on a jungle gym, Kali and Bald sharing kisses and sweet whispers from time to time and Adam sitting suspiciously close to Jo. Sam enjoyed their time like he did the evening before until Jo brought up the topic of his past again, most likely to escape Adam's flirting.

“So Sam, what got you here? Ran away?” Her smile was too sweet for Sam to get pissed at the invasion of his privacy.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied reluctantly. “Nothing unusual, just your average runaway story. Didn't like the lifestyle of my family and wanted to try something different.” He hoped this was everything he had to say on the topic. At least it wasn't a lie.

Jo nodded. “Yes, it was kind of the same with me. My mum was overprotective and couldn't understand I needed to make my own experiences to grow up and become as much of an independent woman as she is. I've only been here for three months. Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it – she must be sick with worry by now – but I'll explain it all to her once I've found what I'm searching for.”

Sam frowned. On some level, he could understand the urge to run away. But Jo's mother seemed to be a caring mother. Why would anyone want to run away from that? “What are you searching for?” he asked. He didn't mention the guilt he felt when he thought about John and Dean. He still loved them, especially his brother. He simply hadn't been able to live with them any longer. If only things had been different, then maybe he could have stayed. But not like this. Not...

“Well.” Jo laughed. “I hope I'll know once I find it.”

Sam didn't know what she was talking about right away, but then he smiled at her wordlessly and averted his gaze.

“Most of the new kids are runaways,” Adam explained. “I'm not – my mother died and my father never cared about me anyway, so I was sent from foster family to foster family until one of them decided I'm 'trouble' and got me here. This was before the group home moved to this town.”

“Same with Curee and me,” Bald explained. “Our parents died in a car accident.” He smiled fondly at his girlfriend. “Kali still doesn't tell anybody how she got here, she's full of secrets.”

The tanned girl gave a small smile and looked away. She hadn't said much all day, Sam noticed.

“Don't get me wrong,” Sam started, huffing a laugh, “but what did you do to be sent to a group home for troubled teenagers?”

Bald, Adam and Curee all gave him the same knowing smile but said nothing. He couldn't explain how exactly but suddenly, the carefree atmosphere from before was gone. It was already turning dark and the streetlamp cast its light on the three boys and Kali sitting on top of the climbing frame and looking down at him. It was tense, and slightly creepy, and Sam made a mental note not to trust anybody in this God damn place.

He coughed in an attempt to ease the tension and turned to Anna beside him, who had been watching the ground silently. “What about you?”

Anna looked up, smiling softly. “I don't remember. I lost my memory and woke up in Abaddon's office. Before that, there's nothing.”

Sam frowned. “That sounds strange. Is there nothing you can do?”

Anna shook her head. “I've tried talking to Abaddon about is but she says it's fine. She said-” Anna paused, looking up to the building. Sam followed her gaze and when he saw it, a cold shiver ran down his spine. There was a figure standing outside the library. Not moving, but watching.

When he realized he'd been noticed, the person looked straight at Sam for a moment before he turned and went away. Sam realized with an uneasy feeling in his stomach that it was Lucifer who had been just standing there for God knows how long, watching them. Had he overheard their conversation?

“That fucker...” Bald murmured and was about to jump off the contraption, but Kali held him back.

“Let him go, Bald. He didn't do anything.”

Baldur cursed but did as she said, putting an arm around her. And somehow, despite all the uneasiness, Sam was glad for Kali's interruption. A fight was never a nice thing to have.

Sam frowned. He watched the dark figure disappear, slowly blending in with the darkness surrounding him, alone.

 

* * *

 

It hadn't happened by accident. When the library had closed and the librarian had thrown him out as usual, getting more annoyed every time, they had just been there and why shouldn't he have listened in? It was a public place. Anyone could have heard them.

So Sam had run away. It only made him more fascinating, in Lucifer's eyes. They had both felt different, unwanted because they didn't share their family's beliefs, but unlike Lucifer who had been thrown out when they couldn't take it anymore, Sam had made the decision to leave. A hunger had overcome Lucifer with that little piece of information, like an appetizer, delicious and delicate but only leaving you greedy, craving for more and hungrier than before.

On his way home, Lucifer had to control himself not to go back and drag Sam with him, away from Baldur and his friends. They didn't belong in Abaddon's home, they never had. All of them were messed up, no exception, but Lucifer, Meg, Castiel, they embraced it. Tried to make the best of it, knowing they were damned.

Adam, Baldur, Mercury and their female friends were hiding their crimes, pretending to be better than them, when they were just as manipulative and cruel, only not playing with open cards.

Abaddon knew about their differences, had even separated them into different rooms. Which left Lucifer with one question as he entered the hallway, Abaddon passing through with two bottles in her hands. Her face lit up when she saw him, and once again Lucifer had to avert his gaze to stop himself from throwing up.

“Hey, sweet little devil,” she said in a honeyed voice, stepping closer.

Lucifer flinched and backed away, almost hitting the door. The pet name echoed through his head, whispered with dark laughter, moaned between high-pitched whimpers.

“Shush...” Abaddon was still smiling at him, now holding out the bottles of whiskey. “Look what I got for you.” Lucifer couldn't take anything from her. He needed a moment to collect himself, closed his eyes to escape the sight of her. He could almost feel her smile getting wider and wider, but was fast enough to not let her try anything.

When he opened his eyes, his stare was finally cold again. He had washed away any sign of his struggles and insecurities, locked them all away to focus on the important things.

 “I love that about you,” Abaddon murmured, eyeing him with fascination. “All that fear in your eyes, and then all of sudden you just-” She snapped her fingers, a soft laugh leaving her lips. Lucifer ignored her.

“Why did you put him with them?”

Abaddon cocked her head, looking at him like her laboratory rat had just shown remarkable behavior. “You're interested in Sam?”

Lucifer remained cold, despite her right observation. “He's not like them, he belongs with us. Put him with Alastair, Azazel and Fergus.”

Raising her eyebrows, Abaddon put the whiskey bottles down on the floor and folded her arms. “I don't think so, sweetheart.” She gave him one last smile and turned away, leaving him standing there with the alcohol.

Whatever stupid games this woman was playing, at least he could always count on the alcohol. He gritted his teeth and took the bottles, making his way down to the basement. This was the first time Abaddon had turned him down, and also the first time he really could have used her help.

The others were already there, rock music blasting through the room. Castiel turned around to wave a hello from where he was sitting on the couch. Fergus was sitting next to him.

Lucifer made a low growling sound in his throat and went to the bar, setting the bottles down and pouring himself a glass. There was this feeling in his chest like something was dragging him down. He couldn't name it, but something seemed to be ripping his ribcage apart, filling the emptiness with hatred, black smoke eating away his flesh and leaving him feeling thin, weak and more hollow than before.

It still happened sometimes. He couldn't stop it, his masquerade was crashing down on him and he just couldn't control himself anymore, simultaneously hating this weak part of him. A dry sob escaped his throat and he downed the glass of whiskey, pouring himself another one before he went over to where the others were gathered. He sat down next to Meg and opposite of Castiel and the British guy.

“There you are,” the female said carefully, letting the conversation with Azazel and Alastair drop without a thought. “We've been worried, where were you all day?”

“Shut it, Meg,” Castiel interrupted before Lucifer could say anything. He smirked. “Luci doesn't owe you an explanation for anything... He's a free spirit.” It was all said in a stretched voice before Castiel let his head fall down and chuckled, supporting himself on Fergus' shoulder. “I mean... We're all free, though we're arguably not all spirits. That'd be...” The sentence trailed off when Castiel started to laugh uncontrollably.

Lucifer frowned. He had seen Castiel drunk before, but this was different. And it had happened at the worst of all times. In his condition Castiel, laughing as he was, had something dark about him. Something almost demonic, like Lilith, only Castiel wasn't normally like this.

Watching with disgust as the boy next to him patted his shoulder, Lucifer asked, “Castiel, are you high?”

Castiel didn't reply; instead he kept grinning at him before his whole body collapsed on Fergus' lap. The other boy caught him and Lucifer hated the smug smile on the Brit's face, the playfulness of his fingers on Castiel's body, and finally the softness and familiarity in his voice.

“Easy, angel. Come to daddy.”

Angel? Daddy?

He didn't need to think about it. Lucifer was on his feet in seconds, dragging Castiel away from Crowley and ignoring his protests. Now he was really starting to hate the guy.

“You worthless little cockroach won't feed my brother drugs and take advantage of him,” Lucifer murmured through gritted teeth, inches away from his face. “Come on, dickhead, you're out of it,” he then said to Castiel, leading him out of the room and ignoring the looks on their backs. He was well aware of how strange he acted. It wasn't like him to drag people out of rooms. It wasn't like him to _care_. The new kids had brought chaos upon them. Both of them.

The last thing he heard was Crowley's startled question, “They're brothers?” before he loudly closed the door behind them and tried to maneuver Castiel up the stairs, glad he'd only drunken one glass.

“You got that wrong, Luce,” Castiel muttered, barely managing to stand on his own feet. “He wasn't doing anything. Just let me try some things.”

Lucifer let out a bitter laugh and roughly shoved him along. “You shut your mouth, Castiel.” He wasn't in the mood for discussions and didn't want to explain.

They had managed to go upstairs and were almost at their room when Castiel suddenly burst out, “What's up with you, Lucifer? You're acting like you're my mother, what happened to all the talk about freedom and making your own choices?”

And what had happened to all the talk about this guy being a joke? Lucifer opened his mouth to say something but when he looked at Castiel, a deeper shade of blue than his own was staring at him blankly, Castiel's face covered in sweat and his hair sticking to his skin. He looked young, like the 16-year-old rebellious teenager he was. Lucifer bit his lip and just opened the door to their room, shoving Castiel inside.

“Sleep.”

“Come on, you won't-” Lucifer cut him off, shutting the door behind him. He heard Castiel curse and fumble, and then light a cigarette. It didn't affect him that the younger boy consumed drugs. It was his own will, after all. But Lucifer couldn't watch people taking advantage of him while he was not fully in control.

It reminded him, it made him furious, startled him, scared him, he simply _couldn't_.

Something had changed, yeah, and not for the better. What was wrong with him? Just a few days ago he had been in control. He had been distant. In his own world, not caring about anything that was going on around him. Now everything seemed to edge in, push him, crowd him, like the statues around him had suddenly come to life, and he liked them better in stone.

Maybe having something concrete to go after wasn't good for him after all. Maybe the outside world just wasn't for him.

He realized his hands were shaking and clenched his fists hard, his nails digging into his flesh. He wanted to punch something, let out his unwanted emotions, but he didn't. That would only make it worse; he needed this all to go away. He controlled himself, breathed in and out deeply. Eventually the blood stopped rushing through his ears and everything turned quiet again. Almost quiet.

There were muffled voices and laughter coming from a room at the other end of the corridor. Baldur's room. Sam's room.

Lucifer stood still. For a brief moment, it had seemed like there was a choice ahead of him but really, there wasn't. He took a few more seconds to collect himself before he went down the corridor, stopping when he came to room number three.

“Yeah,” he heard Sam laugh. “Dean and I got each other Barbies and shaving cream for Christmas once.”

Lucifer smiled, leaning against the wall and sliding down so he was sitting near the door, listening to the conversation. As he listened, he felt himself getting calmer inside. He wasn't part of it, and therefore it wasn't as exhausting. In fact, it was mostly boring, Adam, Baldur and Jo babbling about trivial things. But sometimes Sam would add something to the conversation and Lucifer would listen closely, eager to know more and more about him.

He could tell there was alcohol involved because the slurred comments and giggles became more frequent over time, and it wasn't long until they talked about women.

“Nah, I haven't really been with anyone. We moved around a lot so I never got the chance. I mean...” Sam laughed. “Dean took many girls home. Or, you know, didn't take them home. But that's not really my thing, I want to be with someone special. Someone who understands me, who I understand. Just...” He trailed off, huffing a nervous laugh.

 _Stupid boy_ , Lucifer thought,  _I'm right in front of you._

“Whatever.” Baldur's voice. “There are a bunch of cute girls in the world, Sam- ouch, Kali. You know I only love you.” Kali's and Baldur's kissing sounds. Disgusting. “Anyway, what I'm saying is, I'm sure you'll find yourself a cheesy soul mate girl.”

There was some silence. Lucifer figured Sam had nodded.

“Did you know half of the weirdos are faggots?” Baldur suddenly asked. Lucifer could picture him wrinkling his nose. “Like, Castiel.”

Mercury giggled. “He's so gay I bet he'd run away from a pair of titties.” Lucifer scoffed quietly. That was tough, coming from a grade schooler who had most likely never seen female genitals at all. It wasn't an altogether wrong presumption, though.

“Pretty sure Meg's a dyke,” Adam tossed in. Lucifer knew  _this_  statement wasn't entirely true. It was pleasantly familiar to not care at all about what they said about her, though. For all he cared, they could tell each other she was an aids infected prostitute from New York. Who knew, maybe she was.

“Yep. And Lucifer,” Baldur began, chuckling, “Lucifer won't get any, I tell ya. But if he did, he'd sure be takin' it up the ass.”

Lucifer's whole body tensed. That was a whole different story. He tried to make out Sam in the laughing group. Was he laughing with them? He couldn't hear his voice, but it was all muffled and the different voices weren't easy to distinguish even when there was only one person speaking. He had no idea what Sam's reaction had been.

Their laughter hadn't faded yet when Kali said, “Also, did you see the new one from Scotland? He looked so gay, he'll fit right in.”

Again, approving laughter.

Still chuckling, Baldur said, “Excuse me for a minute.”

Lucifer realized too late that he was going to go to the bathroom and barely got to his feet in time before the other boy was already in the same room, the smile on his face fading as he spotted him.

“What're  _you_  doing here?” he hissed, raising a hand accusingly.

“Mind your own business, Baldur,” Lucifer replied calmly, and then slipped up. “You wouldn't want to know what a faggot like me is doing at this time of night.”

Baldur raised his eyebrows and stepped into his personal space. Lucifer didn't move an inch. “You've been eavesdropping, huh? Why, your friends throw you out? If you're looking for a boy to hit on, you've come to the wrong place.”

Lucifer crossed his arms impatiently, but his voice still remained calm. “I already told you it's none of your business. Now go take a piss or whatever you've been up to.” He turned around and was already a few steps away when Baldur laughed.

“Already giving up on me? Or are you after Sam? Because he sure won't get his dick dirty for you.”

It wasn't a conscious decision. Lucifer's fist was in Baldur's face before he had even fully processed the comment and he hit him so forcefully it sent them both flying to the ground. Baldur cried out in pain, a hand moving up to carefully touch his face.

There was blood, lots of it, dripping from Baldur's nose. Lucifer, on top of him, could only stared at him in shocked and failed to notice the door opening and Baldur swearing, “Fucking... faggot!”

The harsh pain in his jaw when Baldur's fist connected brought him back to reality. Lucifer swung again, this time aiming for Baldur's gut rather than his face. Finally, Baldur curled up on himself, giving Lucifer enough space to back away.

He looked up. Around them stood Adam, Mercury, Jo, Anna, Kali and Sam, all wearing a shocked expression.

“Bald!” Adam called. “What happened?” Then, to Lucifer, “Are you crazy?!”

Lucifer just kept staring at the different faces. His reputation may indicate otherwise, but this was actually the first fistfight he had ever gotten into, and it had all happened too fast to even really enjoy letting out his anger.

“He fucking punched me... I bet my nose is broken,” Baldur mumbled and Kali knelt down beside him, examining the wound.

Lucifer's eyes searched for Sam's and their gazes locked. Sam's eyes were wide but at the same time, he was frowning and watching Lucifer more repulsed than ever. But there was something else too. He looked angry. Like someone would be angry at their best friend for hitting on the bartender on their anniversary. Like he had fucked things up, and Sam judged him for it.

Oddly enough, this brought a small smile to his face, and the others were just staring at him in disbelieve. He stood up and looked down at Baldur. “Do you want me to inform Abaddon?”

“Fuck you,” Baldur spat. “I'm going to take care of this myself. Go back to whatever shithole you came from!”

Same as yours, Lucifer thought, glad to see the disapproval in Sam's look as he regarded Baldur. He thought about apologizing for Sam's sake, but found that he didn't mean it and it would sound too fake for it to have any positive effect.

So he only nodded and went back to his room, feeling several stares piercing his back for the second time that night.

The next morning, Castiel apologized upon hearing about the fight and they shared a cigarette in quiet reconciliation.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

The atmosphere in the room was still tense the next morning. A lot had been happening the other day. So much in fact that Sam had completely forgotten about his aims and plans and the absurdity of his situation.

Bald was still hurt. He had gotten his nostrils filled with tissues by Abaddon. If Sam had questioned her before, now he was sure the woman was out of her mind for putting herself in this position and then treating the teenagers the way she did. Instead of driving him to the hospital immediately or at least letting him see a doctor like any responsible adult would have, she had examined the fracture and had then simply commented, “It's not that bad, you won't have to see a doctor. Unless, of course, you want to.”

Naturally, the teenager refused to take any health precautions. Despite his narcissism, any deformations coming from a crooked fractured nose were still better than the shame of admitting he wanted help.

Well, Sam wasn't one to interfere – not anymore – and so he didn't try to change his mind. Instead, he listened to the conversation about yesterday night. They had all been too shocked and worried to talk about what caused the fight (Abaddon sure hadn't asked), but now that things returned to normal, Bald was happy to share the story.

“That dickwad was standing outside, listening to our conversation. He's more of a creep than ever. Sam,” he looked straight at him over his pointed finger. Sam sat up a bit. “If I was you, I'd be cautious. He seems to be real into you, if you know what I mean.”

Sam coughed. Yeah, he had already figured that Lucifer had some sort of interest in him.

“I mean, really,” Bald went on, gesturing with his hands. “He punched me because of you.”

“Because of me?” Sam asked warily, “why, what did you tell him?”

Bald shrugged. “Just told him you didn't swing that way. Seems like he didn't take it well...”

“Oh...” Only that Sam wasn't so sure about that. He had thought about it more than once, without any clear results. He was mainly attracted to women, yes, but the idea of being with a man didn't put him off as much as it did other male teenagers. In fact, when he thought back to their meeting in the bathroom, back to Lucifer's bare chest, his blue eyes and the dirty blond wet hair... it wasn't exactly repulsive, aesthetically speaking.

What  _did_  repulse him was the fact that Lucifer had been waiting in corridors and overhearing conversations more than once, and it also didn't help that when he had talked directly  _to_  Sam, it had been a cryptic conversation about being special and having met before. The strangest thing was that Sam had this weird feeling of familiarity too, he was just too freaked out by Lucifer's straightforwardness to explore it further.

“How do you know he's been listening?” he asked, his thoughtful frown faltering as he spoke to Bald.

“Quoted me. You know, about the faggot stuff. It's actually not so bad he heard that.” Bald grinned.

Homophobia was one of the things he would never understand. Hating on people for their sexual preferences was the same as hating them for their favorite color or their taste in books. But he didn't want to start a fight and so he said nothing.

The day went by without further incident, a slightly bad mood hanging over them. Monday came and Sam had to attend a new school. Since none of his roommates was in his year, he had come with Abbadon in her nun's habit to find out what room he needed to be in. But paperwork took its time and soon Sam needed to interrupt Abaddon while she spoke to the secretary.

“Sorry, but aren't I supposed to be in class in five minutes?”

Abaddon gave him a quick once-over and returned to her conversation, handing (supposedly fake) documents back and forth. Sam waited outside.

Being in an unfamiliar school hallway was something he was very used to. He had attended so many new schools spread across the states, and at some point it had become routine. He used to be nervous when walking into a new class but when you'd done it a few times, it wasn't that exciting anymore. For better or for worse, he had come to accept that no one really cared. There was no reason to be nervous because he was just another kid. On top of that, he had never stayed for long.

Not this time, though. This time, he would stay at this exact school for as long as possible. He would take his SATs here, and he would graduate here. And no father and no brother would pull him out again and drive off to the next job.

The first period was almost over when he finally got the information he needed. The secretary looked not pleased at all to hand him his schedule, and he was glad to have an excuse for leaving without any more words.

He hurried through the hallways and stairways fast enough for him to reach the room in time for the second period. It hadn't started yet and there was no sign of any teacher nearby, the students chatting and joking around.

The only available seat was in the middle of the room next to a boy he recognized from the group home. It was the one he had seen mostly at Lucifer's side. Sam sighed and sat down beside him with his chest still heaving from all the running.

“Hey,” Sam greeted. No reaction. It seemed like he didn't even notice Sam. His eyes were slightly narrowed in concentration as he rolled a cigarette. If he was even aware he was doing it at school right before the teacher was about to come in, he obviously didn't care.

“Is your creepy friend ill today?” Sam asked conversationally, making the other boy look up from his desk. A dirty smirk spread on his face, toothy and gummy and too wide for the inducement. It made Sam feel uncomfortable.

“In all the years I've known him, I've never seen Lucifer ill.” That was apparently all he had to say on the issue because he returned to his task of rolling the tobacco.

“Okay,” Sam mumbled, “why isn't he with you, then?”

It wasn't like he was interested because he wanted to befriend Lucifer. Not at all. In fact, staying as far away as possible seemed like the best thing to do. But research was always helpful. The uneasy feeling that came naturally when someone you hadn't ever met before told you they knew you kept coming back whenever he saw Lucifer, and not knowing anything at all about him only made it worse. Maybe talking to his friend would help him figure out his motives and thought patterns. If he was lucky, he'd get some confirmation that Lucifer was just a lunatic and the strange feeling would go away.

The other boy licked the paper, attached it and laid the finished cigarette down before he looked at Sam again. “Well, for one, he isn't even in my year.” He packed the tobacco away and took out a notebook. The _'_ _ _And it's also none of your damn business__ _ _'__ lingered in the air between them.

Okay, this was awkward. Sam should just have handled this like he usually did: Stay quiet, don't ask, don't care. Nevertheless, he found himself wondering what it was about these guys. Both Lucifer and his friend seemed, for the lack of a better word, interesting.

“So you're on your own?” Sam asked, trying to save the conversation and realizing too late how that sounded.

His seat mate rolled his eyes. “Well, most people think I'm a freak.”

And that was not what he had intended to say. He had just wanted to make sure this was where he was going to sit for the time being. But Sam nodded anyway. “I know the feeling.”

The other boy eyed him for a moment, regarding him like he knew something Sam didn't. And Sam was really getting sick of that.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, grinning, “Abaddon's place is like a damn freak show.” He turned in his seat, his body language inviting for the first time since they had started talking. “I'm Castiel. Or Cas, if you prefer.”

Sam's eyebrows went up in surprise. “So you're Castiel? Nice to meet you. I'm Sam.”

Castiel's brows were furrowed and he wasn't looking at Sam anymore when he took out a pen. “How do you know my name?”

Sam shrugged. “Mercury told me about you.”

“Curee? Can't be anything good, then.”

Just when Sam was about to clarify that no, it hadn't been necessarily bad, or at least he hadn't taken it that way, the teacher came in hurriedly, holding a lot of books and checking her clock. “Sorry for being late, the headmaster had an announcement for all of us,” she said loudly, before she continued with the procedure Sam had gone through way too many times.

“We have a new student today! Say hello to Sam Simmons!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

“ _There is no such thing as moral phenomena, but only a moral interpretation of phenomena” -_ _Judgment is relative, only based on personal values. Therefore, morality itself cannot exist as the idea of it is much more complex than Kant, Bentham and many others-_

“Guess who took the seat next to me.”

Lucifer finished writing his commentary before looking up at Castiel. “Does your newly acquainted drug dealer think that disguising cocaine as chalk dust is the perfect way to keep you high during school?”

Fiddling in his backpack, Castiel rolled his eyes. “I thought we were over this.” He found a cigarette and put it between his lips, throwing away the backpack and getting comfortable on his bed. It had become so much of a routine that Lucifer almost liked the image of Castiel sitting there in front of him and lighting his cigarette.

“I wasn't criticizing you.”

Castiel chuckled, the tip of the cigarette still in his mouth before he exhaled. “Yes, you were. You're always criticizing.” He gave him a quick smile. “But that's okay, I won't take it personally, although it's clearly meant that way.”

Like many times before, the small room filled with smoke and though that made it harder to concentrate, Lucifer returned to his lecture, thinking that the conversation was over for now.

“Sam.”

That had his attention, and he closed the book and looked up again. “What about him?”

“Sometimes I wonder if you even process what I say or if you just listen long enough to spot an opportunity for a sarcastic comment...”

“What is it?” Lucifer repeated more urgently. He wasn't angry, but Castiel had this mannerism to lose the thread and keep on talking about whatever was on his mind.

“He's sitting next to me in class.”

Oh. “And?” he encouraged him to keep talking.

Castiel hesitated. “I... think you may have freaked him out a bit.”

That alone was useless information. He had realized it before and the main problem now was that he wasn't sure how to convince him that he didn't want to harm him in any way. “What did he say?”

He watched Castiel kill the cigarette with a body language that said he was very uncomfortable telling him. “He referred to you as my 'creepy friend'. Seriously, what did you do to him?”

Lucifer clenched his teeth. “I did nothing to him. I just talked to him.”

Castiel merely raised an eyebrow.

“No, really! I met him in the bathroom Saturday morning, waited until he was done showering and asked him if he remembered our first encounter. He didn't, so I told him about my view on our relationship, that I thought we were special.” He didn't understand why Sam had reacted so repelled, or why he hadn't felt their connection, or at least hadn't let it show.

Castiel stared at him. “You're telling me you waited for him outside the bathroom while he was showering and then welcomed him with a soul mate speech?”

Lucifer shrugged.

“No wonder he's freaked.” Castiel grinned. “Try to see things from his perspective: A guy he literally just met stalked him through his shower time where he's most vulnerable and confronted him with a  _connection_  he felt. Unlike you, he hasn't spent his every waking hour thinking about that boy from his childhood, so he doesn't understand where you're coming from. He probably thinks you're crazy.” Castiel eyed him warily like he wasn't so sure about that himself.

Lucifer turned away, clenching and unclenching his fists to prevent an emotional crescendo. “I did not hurt him. I didn't even touch him. I'm not his enemy.”

And as he said it he realized that this was what it was all about. He had adjusted to the thought of being everyone's enemy in a general sense, people's enemy, the world's enemy. But if there was anyone he didn't want to think of him this way, it was Sam. Sam wasn't supposed to fight him. They were supposed to fight the world, together.

“I'm not saying you want to hurt him. I know you don't.” He opened the skylight window over the small closet and pulled out yet another cigarette. “I'm just saying that maybe you should be a little less direct. Get to know him before you talk about being soul mates again.”

Lucifer nodded slowly, watching his palms with the many little crescents pressed into his skin. He didn't want to wait. He had waited for so long. But maybe he would find another way to be close to Sam and keep him from harm without confronting him like that again.

“So, what does Nietzsche have to say?” Castiel asked, passing over the cigarette.

This one, they shared.

 

* * *

 

Getting back into school life wasn't as easy as Sam had thought. He didn't manage too bad, considering how many weeks he hadn't been to any school, first traveling with his father and then running away, but he had missed a lot and he kept his eyes on his big goal: Law school. If he wanted to get into Stanford, he would need a scholarship. And in order to receive it, he needed to have excellent grades.

He got along well with his roommates – too well to be able to study in their presence. Lucifer hadn't made another move on him. He only saw him at breakfast and dinner, and even then they were separated by a few tables between them. Sometimes their eyes would met, and there would be something in Lucifer's look, not intimidating but rather... sad. It almost made Sam feel guilty about having rejected him without getting to know him first, but the absence of someone waiting for him outside the bathroom or listening to his conversations took a burden from his shoulders and he felt overall more comfortable.

Even the dirty group home felt more familiar every day and he was starting to adjust to living with a bunch of other teenagers, which resulted in a lot of chatting and joking around, a general atmosphere that made it impossible for him to concentrate. So he thought about the alternatives and after some consideration decided he would go to the library after school every other day to catch up on the material.

The library was, unsurprisingly, a quiet place. Usually it was nearly empty, only a few elderly people coming by from time to time. There was no big university in town, so there were only some state college students studying there on their own. He never met anyone his age; apparently they were all satisfied with the school library like Bald and Adam were.

In other words, it was the perfect place to study without being distracted or interrupted. Sam sat at the same small table behind a bookshelf every day, the books surrounding him like quiet friends, encouraging him to keep on working through the material so he could maybe grab one or two novels later. Sometimes he would come back from the restroom and a new book would sit on his subject material, mostly short novels or novellas like  _Animal Farm_ ,  _The Stranger_  or  _Chess Story_.

Today, a very slim novella called  _Fear_  lay on his table. Sam picked it up. He hadn't heard of the title before, but recognized the author as the one who had written  _Chess Story_. Stefan Zweig. He tried to pronounce it in a whisper, but stopped as he noticed the librarian's judgmental stare on him. His face turned red. There he was, getting a personal selection of books almost every day, and he couldn't even pronounce the author's name correctly.

Because Sam had liked the other novella and didn't want to embarrass himself further, he took the book with him to the reception, reading the summary on the back on his way. It sounded interesting. Not because of the plot but because Sam already knew Zweig's writing. Just a book about a woman who has an affair wouldn't be too interesting, but after having read  _Chess Story_ , Sam could guess that it was less about the affair itself but more about the woman's mind and emotions while she betrayed her husband. Fear. Sam smiled, already looking forward to read the story in the evening.

He wondered how the librarian knew he liked this sort of literature, or if she simply wanted him to read her books instead of just using her library as a place to study. Anyway, he decided to let her know he was grateful for the distraction. It wasn't what he had come here for but some days, when he had worked for many hours, an intriguing story would magically appear just at the right time, and he would thankfully burrow into the novella and read it in one go.

“Your library card, please?”

He handed it over to the brunette woman in her gray suit and watched her skim through documents quietly. Her brows were furrowed and she looked like she would want to attack anyone who said the wrong thing to her. To be honest, she was all but friendly, but Sam didn't want to judge her on how she interacted with strangers. After all, she had chosen very nice books for him to read, so she couldn't be all that bad.

Sam coughed. “I just wanted to thank you for leaving these books on my desk. I've liked every one of them so far, and sometimes I can really use a distraction.”

The librarian looked at him like he had implied her illiteracy, and Sam already regretted having said anything. “I did not force any of my books onto you, Mister Simmons.”

“Oh.” Sam's eyes widened and a shiver ran down his spine. “Okay, just... forget it.” Was he going mad? The books had certainly been there, he hadn't selected them himself... or had he? And there was no one else around who would put them on his table, no one but the unfriendly librarian... or was there?

 

* * *

 

 

It was a Friday night. They were in the basement as usual, gathered on the couches, and Lucifer was drunk. He had watched Crowley shamelessly flirt with Castiel for some time until he couldn't take it anymore and downed one drink after another. After that, it was easier to ignore them, and he even had a decent conversation about music with Azazel – with a lot of pathetic praising and careful wording on his side, but still.

“Where's Meg?” Lucifer asked, his voice controlled despite the alcohol in his system. He vaguely remembered her being here before, then she had been gone all of sudden.

“I think she's in our room.” Ruby was braiding Lilith's hair, intertwining the last strains before she put a ribbon around it. “Trying to get Bela down here for the hundredth time.” She rolled her eyes and Lilith jumped off her lap, curling up on Azazel instead.

“Who says we want her here?” Alastair mumbled, glancing at Crowley in a way that clearly suggested she wasn't the only unwanted person. Lucifer couldn't object. He passionately hated the Scottish boy. Not only did Lucifer loathe his whole personality, he also was the reason for him and Castiel to argue more often than not lately. And although Castiel had convinced him to at least call him by his last name because his first name was just too ridiculous, he still called him Fergus sometimes in his mind. It gave him a strange sort of satisfaction.

As if they had been standing outside, waiting for their prompt, Meg and Bela came in only a minute later, Bela looking like she wasn't interested in any of them and considered the meeting a waste of time. She wasn't far from Lucifer on this one, with the difference that Lucifer had nothing else to do while Bela was rumored to spend most of her free time shoplifting and sneaking around dubious places. Then again, there were rumors about Lucifer, too.

Meg changed the tape in the recorder, causing the room to go silent for a moment. In the silence, Lucifer could hear Crowley whisper and he glanced over to them. Castiel was wearing a small smile while Crowley was fidgeting in his suit jacket. Lucifer watched as he held out two small pills, withdrawing them again as Castiel reached to take one.

The British boy chuckled and murmured into Castiel's ear. Despite his concentration Lucifer couldn't understand all of what he was saying. “... angel, ... at this … some time now, ... think … pay me back or ... stop holding yourself back?” Lucifer balled his fists, on the edge of intervening. He wouldn't drag Castiel away though, they had talked about this and Castiel had assured him he wouldn't even care about anyone 'taking advantage'. He respected Castiel's choices. That didn't mean that Lucifer didn't panic internally as soon as he saw Crowley put the pills on his tongue and force it into Castiel's mouth.

The alcohol didn't help anymore. His mind was cloudless in an instant, adrenaline clearing his veins and forcing his brain to work as the two boys were devouring each other, tongues sliding in and out right before his face. He was just about to jump up, thinking about searching for Sam again, when Alastair spoke up loudly but with the same slurring tone as always.

“What do you think you're doing? Get a room.” He mumbled something about preferring them not to come back. Eventually, they broke apart and Lucifer was finally able to breathe again.

“Relax,” Castiel said with a toothy grin and red lips, but Crowley looked intrigued by the idea.

“Before anybody's leaving, why don't you all listen to Clarence and wind down a bit?” Meg started the player again and a very familiar tune started playing. Alastair relaxed upon recognizing the song and Meg nodded to Ruby.

“You got something on you?”

Ruby smiled mischievously and pulled out a small package of dry green leaves. Lucifer wondered when this had become a drug party.

“Oh, hey...” Castiel was at Ruby's side in a second, abandoning poor Fergus and Lucifer couldn't help the satisfied smile forming on his lips.

“Not for you, sweetie,” Ruby said, starting to roll a joint. “You've had enough shit already.”

“Come on...” His pouting look sent a feeling of disgust through Lucifer's body. Castiel, whom he had only gotten close to because he liked the way he didn't care about anybody's opinion and just did what he felt like, degraded himself only to get more mind-numbing substances. He would have to talk to him about that.

“Hey, angel!” Crowley was grabbing Castiel around the waist and whispered something into his ear none of them could hear over the music playing. Castiel grinned, nodded and stood up shakily.

“We're out. Have fun, and don't get too stoned, Luce.” Apparently, Castiel refused to call him by his actual name whenever he was high. Yet another thing he didn't like about that.

Castiel winked at him, to which Lucifer only stared back. Then they were gone, giggling and swearing and leaning onto each other, and all in all being obnoxious.

“Do you realize they're gonna be humping in our room?” Alastair murmured, looking after them. Lucifer tried very hard not to think of it.

Azazel shrugged, humming along with the song, while Meg took Bela's hand and led her to the place where Castiel and Crowley had been sitting before.

They were all quiet for a while, until Ruby lit the spliff and they started singing the lyrics between taking drags and exhaling smoke.  _Hotel California_ was the tape that had been in the recorder when they had moved here. The sound quality was awful, but still it had something about it that united them. In this moment, all lost children shared the same indescribable feeling of melancholy, nostalgia, hopelessness and defeat. In this moment, they were all self-aware, knowing they were damned, stuck in a place that wouldn't help them get anywhere.

Even Bela's expression shifted, her chin lower, her brows furrowed. She took a drag from the joint and blew the smoke out slowly two times before she held it out to Lucifer over the table. He hesitated. He had only ever smoked a reefer with Castiel once, with not enough marijuana to have any real effect and he had never had the desire to try it again.

“Give it a try,” Meg encouraged him. “You look exhausted.”

She was right about that. What with Castiel and Crowley, Abaddon and most importantly Sam, his social life had gotten a lot more complicated in only two weeks, and more complex than he had ever wished for.

Ultimately, his curiosity won over and Lucifer took the rolled paper. Smoking without a solid cigarette filter was somehow unpleasant and satisfying at once. It felt unfamiliar in his throat, compared to a normal cigarette, but Lucifer liked the idea of unfiltered smoke filling his lungs with dirt, roughening his voice.

The room was floating. After they had passed the joint around until it had burnt down, it became difficult to focus on things. The dim lights coming from the bar were dancing across his sight, scattered by the invisible small waves hitting them. His body parts had gotten heavy and he felt completely calm. He was paralyzed, not willing to move an inch, but his mind was working.

His thoughts drifted to Sam. It wasn't easy for him to hold back, to not just stay close to him without hiding. Even when he kept in the dark, he couldn't stop seeking his presence. He needed to know where he was going and what he was doing. It was an addiction. With every bit he learned about Sam, he became more obsessed with him. Right now Sam was in his room, chatting with the worst people he could have gone for. Normally he would have to suppress the urge to just drag Sam out of there but his body wouldn't let him do that right now anyway.

Lucifer wondered how strong Ruby's dope was because the effect was nothing like his first try with Castiel. After a while, the feeling wasn't pleasant anymore. He was handicapped, out of his mind. It felt like being in a cage, and he was starting to feel sick.

The others were having a good time, grinning all the time and talking and laughing about the weirdest things. Lucifer was too passed out to join the conversation. He didn't want to be here anymore, and desperately wished for Sam's company instead.

His hand involuntarily moved up to his jaw, touching the almost completely healed skin. Meg glanced at him from where she was sitting suspiciously close to Bela.

“Are you ever going to tell us what happened that night?”

There was a laugh, deep and a bit frightening. It took him a while to realize it was his, although the sound echoed in his head much too loud, much too close and yet too unfamiliar to feel like his own. When he spoke, it sounded like his ears were underwater. “You know I got into a little fight with Baldur. It's nothing.”

From somewhere far away came Meg's chuckling voice. Lucifer wished he could turn off the effects of the drug. “You know, I'm always in for a fight against him. There must have been some trigger, though.”

“Yeah...” He screwed his eyes shut, trying to get a clear head. “He... talked shit about us. Called us all fags and dykes and...” His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. It didn't even feel like he had been the one starting it. Had he said something at all? What was this even about?

“That bastard...” Alastair slurred, touching the embers of his cigarette. Lucifer wondered if it was only his imagination that had him seeing Meg withdraw a hand from Bela's thigh.

“He'll pay for that,” Azazel said in a low voice, and despite his young age it sounded like he meant it. Whoever he was talking about. What were they talking about?

“You know,” Bela began, speaking up for the first time this evening, “you're all just a bunch of kids fighting each other in a sandpit because neither of you like the cigarette butts in it. The sooner I get out of here, the better.” She smiled arrogantly and left, the sound of her heels on the wooden hallway floor audible even through the walls. Or maybe Lucifer hallucinated it.

“There goes your truelove,” Ruby teased, and Meg shot her a glare.

“Shut up, I just think she's hot.”

The girls kept teasing each other, but Lucifer found it more and more difficult to follow their conversation. Azazel and Alastair didn't say anything either, and so the mood was gone fast and eventually Ruby and Meg both stood up.

Lilith had long fallen asleep when Ruby picked her up from the couch. “Come on, you little monster, let's get you into bed.”

The three girls said their goodbyes and left. Azazel and Alastair were too scared to find naked gays in their room to go yet, but when Lucifer went to bed, trembling on his way, Castiel was already asleep on the other bed, fully clothed.

Lucifer put the blanket over him and regarded his sleeping face for a second before he passed out himself. He would never do drugs again.

 

 

* * *

 

Sam was exhausted.

His only wish last night had been to read a good book and go to sleep. After another long study session in the library, that had been all he'd felt capable of. His body had been sore from all the sitting and leaning over books, and he'd felt too drained to even lift a finger. Maybe all the studying was getting the better of him after all.

But of course, he hadn't read only one page of Stefan Zweig's novella. Neither had he gone to sleep. Because it had been a Friday night and Bald and Adam had wanted to go out, and had persuaded him until he'd finally given in. They'd bought a few beers, not without Bald complaining over Lucifer's privileges to get alcohol for free – a fair point, Sam thought – and the three boys had kept strolling through town until one or two o'clock, because apparently, nobody living with Abaddon had a curfew.

That was why today, Sam was totally wrecked. And he would definitely not do it again.

“Oh, come on,” Bald urged, “you're not that boring, are you?”

Sam huffed a slightly offended laugh. “I suppose I am, yes.”

“But we already sent Curee to the girls so he won't complain about being alone again,” Adam argued, but Sam shook his head.

“Sorry, guys. Another time.”

The two boys kept staring at him, and he kept staring back with raised eyebrows. He wouldn't let them make him feel bad for needing some time to himself.

“Alright,” Bald finally murmured, and they quickly argued over whether they should take the girls with them instead or not. Sam was a bit afraid that he'd have to entertain Curee, which wouldn't be relaxing either, but thankfully Anna wanted to stay home, too, and volunteered to take care of him. Sam felt a sudden fondness for Anna. Thank God she liked kids.

With Bald, Adam, Kali and Jo out, he was finally alone.

A bit too alone, maybe. The whole floor was suddenly very quiet. Chances were that everyone else was in the basement, and Anna, Curee and Sam were the only ones still in their rooms.

It was already too dark to read comfortably in natural light, so Sam turned on the lights and sat down on his bed. He leaned against the wall behind him and opened the book. It was quiet. He was alone. And he suddenly missed his brother much more than he had with all the people around all the time.

Dean had always mocked him for reading, no matter what kinds of books. Whether he'd read  _Lord of the Rings_  or  _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , Dean had merely glanced at the cover before calling him a nerd. Sam had bitchfaced him in return, of course. But he'd never thought he'd miss his brother's mocking. He'd never fully realized it was his brother's way of showing affection.

However, he hadn't seen much of this Dean anyway towards the end. He hadn't laughed as often anymore, hadn't brought as many girls home, and had even stopped asking for pie on every single occasion. Dean had fully concentrated on the  _job_ , and by that, had begun to seal himself off from Sam. Or from anyone, for that matter.

Maybe that was the reason why Sam had finally left. Seeing Dean become more and more like their father had been too much for him.

He sighed. The book still lay open in his hands and he realized he'd been reading the first few pages, or at least his eyes had repeatedly moved from left to right while his mind had been elsewhere. He shook his head and started again with page one, pushing every thought of Dean to the back of his mind.

It was a good book, although Sam disliked the main character more and more with every page. He couldn't understand her reasoning – why would anyone want to risk their stable family for an affair? A meaningless affair, as far as Sam could tell. They had everything, and yet she was risking it all just to get a bit of variety into her life. As if there weren't other ways. It was quite a paradox that she was ultimately punishing herself with all the fear of losing the family that seemed to drive her mad.

But although he didn't like her, Sam couldn't help emphasizing with her. It was Zweig's writing that made him feel the protagonist's overwhelming fear as if it was his own. He was at Irene's side in the crowd of people, seeing every one of them as a possible danger, as the one person that would tell her secret and end the world. He could feel the panic, the paranoia, the feeling of slowly losing sanity. Sometimes he needed to look up from the book and glance around to reassure himself that he was alone, that there was no one there watching him. And of course there wasn't, but his eyes lingered on the closed window anyway.

It was just the book. There was no one there. And yet the sight of his own reflection in the glass sent an uneasy feeling to his gut. It was completely dark outside, and because the lights were on, he couldn't see anything but the reflection of the room in the window. He felt watched.

This was a simple and normal form of paranoia, Sam knew. Everyone had felt it at some point, the book only made it worse.

But he was vulnerable. A rabbit at the center of a clearing, fully exposed for the fox to jump out of the woods and sink its teeth into his flesh. The light in the room was presenting him, and he felt like he was on a stage, spotlights on him; he couldn't see the audience, only a dim reflection of himself, as if the reflective surface was mocking him. He couldn't see behind his mirror image.

Sam shook his head. There was nothing behind the window, only a bunch of trees. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and returned to Irene's story. It only got worse. He had read for only five more minutes before his heart was beating heavily against his chest, and that was the point at which he needed to close the book. He laid it down on his bed and tried to calm his nerves.

Breathing in and out deeply, he let himself sink down against the wall and rubbed his eyes. That was not the quiet and relaxation he had needed. It was a good book, that much he could say, but it wasn't good for him now. He still felt uneasy.

Sam closed his eyes and kept them shut until his breathing had returned to normal. When he opened them again, he was looking directly at his reflection in the window. Another shiver ran down his spine.

With a deep sigh, he stood up and turned out the lights. For a few seconds, he saw nothing. Only black. And yet he felt relieved to know that at least he was surrounded by the darkness. It made him feel less exposed. Then his vision slowly returned and Sam walked to the window and looked outside.

It was too dark, and his eyes still hadn't yet fully adjusted to the sudden loss of light. But though he kept staring into the night for at least half a minute, he couldn't see anyone. Because there was no one, Sam reminded himself. Only trees.

Just as he was about to turn away, he saw movement in the tree closest to him and froze. There was something...

He took a step closer to the window and stared outside with his eyes wide open.

Something...

Sam shook his head. His heart was beating too fast again. He was slowly going mad. It had just been a bird or some other animal. Why would anyone climb a tree in the middle of the night?

Maybe he should go to sleep.

 

* * *

 

There was no way. No way he could see him in the dark. Not in a night of new moon, and not so shortly after he'd turned off the lights.

Lucifer couldn't see him, either. Not anymore. And yet he stayed in his position, sitting uncomfortably on the branch of a tree, leaves all around him. He kept staring at the now dark window, wondering if Sam was standing behind it. If maybe he was staring back at him right in this second. The thought was appealing.

“What exactly are you doing?”

Lucifer reluctantly looked away from the window and down to where Castiel was staring up at him. He said nothing, only glanced back to where Sam was supposedly standing for a moment before he jumped. The branch he'd been sitting on shook with the movement and leaves rustled in the otherwise silent night.

“What are you, a horny high school boy watching his crush undress?” Castiel looked him up and down and squinted in the direction of Sam's room.

“He wasn't undressing,” Lucifer murmured and started to walk back to the building. Castiel followed him.

“Then what was he doing that was interesting enough for you to climb a tree to see it? Hula hoop? Yoga?”

Lucifer sighed. “He was reading.”

“Reading?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Castiel whistled. “Exciting.”

Lucifer's lips pulled back in the faint trace of a smile. “It was a book I selected for him.”

“What, now you're in a book club?”

Instead of answering, Lucifer merely walked up to the back door. It had filled him with joy to see that Sam was reading the books he'd picked out for him. Even if his reaction to it had been unpleasant, but that could also have to do with his general situation. After all, he was a runaway. Leaving your family behind was never easy, no matter what they did to you.

As he reached for the handle, Castiel put a hand on his shoulder. Lucifer stopped and looked at him questioningly.

“Don't you think you're taking this a bit too far?” Castiel's half-serious tone was gone, and there was no sarcastic smirk or grin or raised eyebrows. It had almost become unusual to see him this earnest.

“Why?” Lucifer asked, dropping his hand. This was no conversation to be held in a hallway.

“Why?” Castiel huffed a laugh. “You think sitting in a tree past midnight and watching someone read is normal?”

“Since when do you care about normal?” Lucifer's voice was flat. For now, this was his only way of being close to Sam, and he wouldn't let anyone take it away from him.

“I don't.” Castiel let out a frustrated sigh. “I just think you could be shooting yourself in the foot here.”

Lucifer frowned. He wasn't doing anything, just watching. That was the whole point. Sam didn't want them to interact face to face, so he needed to find another way of strengthening their bond. Sam hadn't said anything against showing him books, and of course Lucifer needed to know if Sam liked them.

“What were you doing out there anyway?” Lucifer changed the subject.

“Eh, looking for you? I expected to find you in our room and you weren't there; I was kinda worried.”

Lucifer shrugged. “You often go out on Saturday nights.”

“Yeah, I do.” Castiel raised his eyebrows, and his usual attitude was back. “ _You_  don't.”

“Alright.” Lucifer sighed. “I'll leave you a note next time.”

“ _Dear brother_ ,” Castiel declaimed, “ _I'm out stalking my not-yet-boyfriend. I'll be back for breakfast. Please don't call the police. Love, Luci. Heart._ ”

Lucifer punched him in the shoulder, and Castiel laughed as they entered the hotel together.

It wasn't for long, Lucifer reminded himself. He wouldn't have to keep watching Sam from afar. He just needed to wait for him to realize that they were meant to be. Until then, he would keep watching Sam think. Keep trying to analyze the changing expressions on his face when he read something. It was too sweet not to.

But not for long.

 

* * *

 

Something wasn't right. It was around the third week of Sam's self-imposed studying period that the weird feeling of being watched intensified. He shrugged it off at first, telling himself that the large amount of reading he did and the novella incident led to paranoia, but the feeling increased with every day he spent at the library.

On one Tuesday afternoon, it got too intense for him to continue studying. His concentration was gone, his mind occupied and his eyes darting around every few seconds. He dropped his pen, cautiously sitting up and scanning the bookshelf. He was sitting in the adventure novel section. Brand new fantasy adventures mixed with the classics, and Sam let his gaze wander from book to book, skimming over a range of closely packed novels and then slowing down when the gaps between the books became wider. As his eyes lingered for a second longer on every title, his heart rate went up.

_The Black Arrow, Treasure Island, ..._

A pair of blue eyes stared at him through the bookshelf. Sam's heart stopped for a second before he jumped up from his chair. Metal and cheap wood hit the floor, making a crashing noise that caused the librarian to come looking.

“What's going on here?”

Sam didn't answer. He watched as Lucifer withdrew slowly from the shelf and disappeared behind it. Even after he was gone, Sam's chest was still rising and falling with every quick breath he drew. There was this creeping uneasiness again that he had felt when Lucifer had waited for him in the corridor, only worse. Much worse.

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

Sam watched as the library door closed. Lucifer was gone.

He slowly turned to look at the woman behind him. She regarded him expectantly, smiling politely at him. Sam tried to smile back. “Yes, thank you. I was just... I thought I saw something.”

He realized he had to confront Lucifer. His stalking made him feel helpless and weak. He wanted to be angry at the guy who followed him, who hid and listened to his conversations because that was just creepy. And although there was also a vague feeling of understanding the more he got to know Baldur and Adam and learned how they treated some people, that didn't make up for it.

On top of that, he still didn't know why exactly Lucifer was so obsessed with him. He had said something about an earlier meeting but Sam just couldn't remember ever having encountered the teenager before his time at the group home. It must be some kind of illusion Lucifer had. Maybe he was really mistaking Sam for somebody else, or maybe he was the one dreaming about a face similar to Sam's and thought he'd recognized him. In either case, it was really just creepy.

Was Lucifer the one putting books on his table? That would explain a lot, but Sam wasn't sure how to feel about that, either. On one hand, he _had_ liked the chosen titles. He had enjoyed reading them. And he did feel some sort of affinity to whoever had such a nice taste in books. But on the other hand, that was just another crazy move, another reason to feel watched all the time.

Unlike his roommates, Sam wasn't a homophobic, wasn't in fact so sure about his own sexual orientation, but it was one thing to fall in love with someone. Stalking them from the very first moment you met was worrisome.

Something needed to change.

So when he came back to Abaddon's place that evening, he went straight to the basement where he knew Lucifer and his folks hung out. Muffled voices and music came from the door when he approached it, the same kind of music his father and his brother listened to when they were driving on the highway. Someone had carved the word “HELL” into the massive wood in capital letters, which Sam found a bit ridiculous, but also somewhat true. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Out of all rooms he had seen so far, this one looked by far the most damaged and rundown. He quickly took in the sight of the old bar and the billiard table, looking for Lucifer in the dim light. The conversations had stopped and everyone in the room was staring at him. Some looked surprised, some even antagonistic. Sam tried to ignore the stares. He spotted Lucifer sitting alone at the bar and, focusing on him, he headed over and stopped in front of the blond.

His voice sounded more confident than he had expected when he said, “I need to talk to you.”

 

* * *

 

Lucifer stared at Sam wordlessly. There he had been watching him from afar, and now Sam walked right into hell, wanting to talk to him. It felt somewhat unreal. What worried Lucifer was the expression on Sam's face. It wouldn't be the nice kind of talk. The expression became worse when another silent moment passed, so Lucifer finally nodded and stood up, following Sam outside and away from all the watching eyes. He didn't care about the chatty mouths they left behind.

After the door had closed behind them, Sam turned around and faced Lucifer, who made sure to leave a comfortable distance between them. Sam looked nervous. He swallowed before he asked, “How long have you been watching me?”

Lucifer didn't answer right away but furrowed his brows in confusion. It must have been the incident at the library a few hours ago that had upset him. But Lucifer didn't understand. He had purposefully left as soon as their eyes had met, avoiding the conversation he knew Sam didn't want to have.

“I wasn't doing anything, Sam.”

“No,” Sam laughed bitterly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “You only scared the hell out of me.”

That felt like a punch in the stomach. Out of his intention to avoid scaring Sam and simultaneously watch over him, he had only scared him further. How could he make him see that he would never do him any harm? That he was just waiting for Sam to understand he was made for Lucifer as much as Lucifer was made for him?

Lucifer opened his arms, showing him his palms. It was a submissive posture, one he had never found himself in until today. He was making himself vulnerable, hoping to show Sam that he wasn't going to hurt him.

“I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. You took a table close to the one I use, so I kept an eye on you. You seemed to overdo things sometimes.” It wasn't really a lie. That was how it had started. The fact that Lucifer had come far more regularly to the library after he had figured out Sam's usual times wasn't important.

Sam looked at him for some time. After a while, he took a deep breath. “So you're the one who put the books on my table?”

Lucifer offered him a small smile. “Did you like them?”

Sam shook his head. “Yes, but...” He avoided his gaze, seemingly searching for words. “You can't keep on doing this to me, Lucifer.”

“I'm not doing anything to you,” Lucifer said, confused and hurt. “I know you better than any other person-”

“But I don't know you!”, Sam shouted, staring intensely at him. “And you don't know me, either.” He paused and bit his lip. “You can't just stalk people and claim to know them. That's not how it works.”

“And that's not what it is about,” Lucifer explained, shaking his head because Sam just  _didn't understand_. “I can feel it. Our bond. Can't you?”

Sam just stared at him. It hurt Lucifer to see the desperation in his eyes, the struggle, the refusal. Why refuse, Sam? Why refuse to know someone so alike?

There was a moment of silence before Sam asked, “Why me?”

“Because it had to be you, Sam.” The answer came naturally. To Lucifer, it had been clear the moment he'd seen Sam again, and he had never once questioned it. It was fate. He was the one person Lucifer would let come close. He was the one person worthy of it.

“Okay,” Sam said carefully, “Maybe you didn't mean to hurt me, but... please. What you're doing irritates me and I don't want you to follow me, or watch me, or listen to my conversations.”

Lucifer sighed. He offered him the world, but Sam didn't want it. “Alright,” he said calmly. “And the books?”

Sam bit his lip. “The books are-”

Then something clearly happened in his head. Lucifer could almost hear the gears turn as Sam's expression shifted into one of pure horror. “You were there last Saturday night, weren't you? At my window. You watched me.” Lucifer tried to answer, but his face seemed to be answer enough to Sam because he blurted out, “Stay away from me, okay? No books, no... nothing. Just leave me alone.”

He was already turning to leave when Lucifer muttered, “You could have told me earlier. I would have stopped.”

Sam stopped and huffed. “Isn't that obvious? Seriously, who wants that?” Then he went away and it was all Lucifer could do to shout after him.

“You will let me into your life, Sam. I'm sure of it.”

He didn't get an answer.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Lucifer didn't follow him to the library that Thursday, and not anywhere else. It was strange for Sam that now he was truly alone when he wanted to be. And that was one hell of a relieve.

He didn't get any more looks from Lucifer during dinner, either. It was like the other boy had just completely deleted Sam from his life. For a while, that was perfect. No one was following him or watching him. And he knew he should be happy about this. He knew he should be glad to finally be left alone.

Yet only a few days later, he found himself watching Lucifer instead now. Without his intense staring, Sam had the opportunity to study him and he had to admit that when he didn't look like a psychopathic stalker, he was a truly interesting person. He was still freaked out by what Lucifer had done, but he also couldn't help being curious. Who was this guy who was so obsessed with him for no real reason?

What Sam could say about him just from watching his interactions with others was that he looked like he had an ongoing inner struggle whether to socialize or to just shut himself off from everyone. One moment it looked like Castiel and the others were actually his friends, - he talked to them and met them in the basement – and the next he looked pissed and distant for some time until he finally wandered off on his own. People were obviously a problem for him. Maybe that was the reason why he didn't go to school. Maybe he had had bad experiences.

Sam thought about that. Lucifer had to know a lot about him now, but he still knew close to nothing about Lucifer, even though he had tossed a question or two towards Castiel. But his classmate rarely told him anything and although they did have some nice conversations from time to time, they weren't exactly friends, either.

Friday morning after their second period, Sam turned in his seat to have a talk with Castiel who, upon noticing Sam's body language, reluctantly put away the cigarette he had just pulled from his pocket.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam gave him a friendly smile and waited until it was more or less returned before continuing, “I was just thinking maybe we could meet outside of school this weekend?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows at him. “Are you hitting on me?”

“Uh, no!” He laughed nervously. It looked like Bald and Curee were right about him being gay, if Cas' reaction was anything to go by. “It's just that Bald, Kali, Adam and Jo are going to the movies together and I don't want to be the third wheel there. Or fifth wheel, for that matter.”

Cas nodded, and for some reason, he looked a bit _too_ understanding for it to be genuine. “So they're on a double date and you're searching for just about anyone else to spend your evening with in order to avoid babysitting Mercury.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, Cas. I just get along well with you and-”

“And you want to take our relationship to the next level! You can just ask me out for a date, Sam, I'm practically single.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest but Cas cut him off.

“Sorry, I was just fucking with you.” He smirked, stretching his back. “Unfortunately for you, I'm already booked, at least for this weekend. You could say I'm going on a trip... to nature.”

Trying not to give Cas the bitchface that was mostly reserved for his brother, Sam just shrugged. “Okay, cool. Maybe another time.”

Castiel nodded. “As for me, you're always invited to join us in Hell. You kind of left in a hurry last time.” He snorted a laugh.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Walking into the other teenager's hangout place and leaving right away with Lucifer behind him wasn't a pleasant memory, and neither was the conversation that had followed. “Yeah, I needed to talk to Lucifer about something.”

“I figured.” There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

If he was going to ask Castiel anything about Lucifer, this was the perfect moment to do it. Now or never. After a beat of hesitation, Sam asked, “So what does Lucifer do all day when he doesn't go to school?”

It looked like Castiel was about to tell him again to fuck off and go ask him himself, but then he could probably read from Sam's expression that he was done with his shit for today, and told him with a sigh, “He reads, mostly. How do you think he manages to pass every year?”

He hadn't thought about that. It suggested that he was right about Lucifer's social problems. After all, reading and educating themselves wasn't a usual schoolskipper's favorite activity. He wondered if his taste in books matched Sam's or whether it had just been coincidental that he happened to like the few books Lucifer had picked out for him.

“What kind of books does he read?” The question was out before Sam could realize that now he was being the creepy one.

Castiel obviously didn't want to feed him more information because he stood up and grabbed his stuff. “Everything. You know, I really need some nicotine and our break's almost over. See you later.”

He was gone before Sam could say anything else. He sighed.

From behind him came a coughing noise. He turned around and saw a brunette girl smiling at him.

“Sorry, I overheard your conversation. Not only this one, to be honest.” She laughed. “They're always interesting, if a little weird sometimes.”

Sam returned her smile and looked her over. She was a pretty girl with a sharp look to her eyes. Her skin was pale, a contrast to her dark hair, eye make-up and lipstick and she was wearing sweet necklaces.

“Uh, thanks,” Sam laughed. “What's so interesting about it?”

The girl put a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing nervously. “God, this is going to sound so cliché, but I just got the impression that you're... different. Not like the other guys at school.”

If she really had listened to their conversation, she would have known that this wasn't the best pick up line to impress Sam. At this point, he was kind of sick of being  _special_ and  _different_.

“I didn't mean that in a bad way!” she added quickly after seeing the look on his face. “But hey, you're interested in literature and mythology, you don't find these qualities often in a high school student.” Her smile was so charming that Sam decided to forget about her earlier faux pas.

“Well, there are always nerds.”

“I guess.” She laughed and hid her face in embarrassment. It was cute. “So, do you happen to be interested in art, too? My father owns a gallery and there's an exhibition tomorrow night. I thought maybe you would like to come, seeing as your seatmate doesn't seem to have time.”

Sam grinned at her. “It definitely beats babysitting my roommate.”

“Cool!” She nodded. “I'm Sarah, by the way.”

Sam smiled. “Nice to meet you, Sarah. I'm Sam.”

 

* * *

 

“I think Sammy boy is interested in you.” Castiel was packing his things, getting ready to leave to wherever Crowley and he were going this weekend.

“You only say that so I won't be angry anymore. But trust me, Castiel, lying to me will only make me angrier.” He held his hands above his head and studied his palms once again. There were yet another few scars.

Castiel rolled his eyes in that casual way he always did. “I know better than to lie to you. He asked about your reading habits. Whatever you did, it seems to have worked.”

Lucifer frowned, staring at the ceiling. “I did nothing. I stayed out of his life.”

“Who would have guessed,” Castiel mocked, “keep on doing nothing, then.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Don't know what else I'll be doing while you're shooting up with your boy toy.”

There was the sound of a bag being thrown to the ground and suddenly Castiel's face was above him, the familiar deeper shade of blue staring at him. “I told you to stop being pissed about it. We won't be shooting up anything, Lucifer. I'm not a heroin addict. It's just a trip through nature with some acid to lighten the mood and give the world some shape and color.”

His face was gone again and Lucifer was back to staring at the ceiling. “Where does he get his junk anyway?”

Castiel opened their small closet and picked some clean clothes. “He doesn't tell me everything but I suspect his parents are drug dealers. I mean, they just left him here to rot after their vacation and fled back to Europe, that much I know. Aside from connections, they also left him a credit card. He could basically go anywhere, don't know why he's staying in this craphole.”

Lucifer had an idea about that, but he wasn't going to share it. Either Castiel was too oblivious to see the heart eyes Crowley had made at him from the very beginning, or he just ignored it. Both was fine with Lucifer, as it would both hurt the little Scottish junkie at some point. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lucifer even hoped that the others would be bright enough to find out about Crowley's money. They would tear him to pieces.

“If you don't come back on Sunday I will hate you forever,” Lucifer mumbled.

Castiel laughed. “Nah, brother. I need your everlasting misanthropy to get through the day. See you on Sunday!” He waved a hand and Lucifer grabbed it before he could leave.

“Castiel?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you taking drugs?” His voice was just calmly interested but it was naïve to think Castiel wouldn't sense the underlying worry.

There was a tense silence in which Castiel turned his arm in Lucifer's grip so he could close his hand around his wrist tightly and their hands were interlocked. When he spoke, it was nothing like his usual snarky tone. Lucifer couldn't see his face – he was still facing the ceiling – but he knew that if he looked, he would meet a serious expression.

“You know the only thing that kept me going was the search for my father. That distant concept of somebody who cares, who loves unconditionally and is probably still out there, even if I can't see him, can't even remember his face.” A sigh. “But I guess I grew up. I gave up hope. I know I will never find him, and even if I do, he probably won't even care about me. I don't have any purpose in life, so why the hell _not_ enjoy my time while I'm still here?” - Lucifer scoffed at that - “ But then...” He could  _hear_ the smirk forming, and Castiel's voice was back to normal. “That's just how I roll.” He tapped his hand on Lucifer's arm once before he let go and left.

Lucifer did something he hadn't done in a long time. He thought about his own father. The immediate reaction was an increase in blood pressure as anger filled his body once again. It seemed like centuries ago that he had shown him the world. Since he had left him, and Michael, with so many questions. And once again, he wondered if it was his fault. Was he the reason his family had been torn apart? With a hissing sound, he clenched his fists as hard as he could.

Then the information that Sam had asked about him got through to him like a firefly illuminating the darkness with only so much as a spark. Sam had asked about him. He was interested.

His body relaxed slowly.

 

* * *

 

Sarah was a nice girl. She looked gorgeous in the black dress she was wearing, and Sam felt seriously underdressed in his plaid and jeans, but frankly, he didn't have anything fancy to wear. They stopped before every painting and shared their interpretations. Sarah had much more insight on the matter, although Sam was educated enough to understand everything she was explaining to him.

They had fun, and it was one of the nicest evenings he had ever had. But still, he couldn't completely enjoy it. There was something holding him back from letting himself be in for this. He didn't know why his thoughts kept trailing back to Lucifer. It was like something had flipped in his mind, and now he was seeing him in a completely different light. He had dreaded the stalking while it was happening but now that it was gone, it almost felt like something was missing. Suddenly, Sam realized... Lucifer had not only watched him, he had also watched _over_ him. And with all those thoughts running through his mind, it just didn't feel right to be on a date with a girl from his history class.

It wasn't officially a date, was it? He didn't know. He had never been to a proper date. But before he knew it, he found himself in front of the gallery, standing too close to Sarah. The sun had just set and the sky was cobalt blue. Sarah's earrings reflected the light of a streetlamp, shining bright in the twilight.

“So...” she said with a nervous smile.

“So...” Sam mimicked.

“I hope you had fun, Sam. It would be the worst to have bored you to death.” She laughed.

Sam joined in. “I'm still alive, right?” He smiled. “I did have fun, Sarah.”

She nodded and there was a silence in which she stepped closer. The wind blew in his direction and her hair brushed over his shoulder.

“So... am I going to see you again?” Sarah lowered her gaze until it locked on his lips. And she was really close now, so so much too close.

Her eyes were already half-lidded, her lips barely an inch apart from his when Sam backed off.

“I'm sorry,” he said, looking into the slightly disappointed eyes of his classmate. “I'm sorry, I can't. Not... yet, anyway.”

Maybe it was just something that would pass. A feeling he would have for one evening, a feeling that would be gone the next day. Or maybe the next week.

Sarah shook her head, gesturing with her hands. “No! No, I'm sorry. I didn't- Jesus, I'm such an idiot.” She rubbed her forehead, not looking Sam in the eye. “I don't normally do that, I just thought maybe you were-”

“It's okay, Sarah,” Sam interrupted her, stroking her shoulder until she looked up at him again. “It's my fault. It... was a very nice evening, really.”

After a moment of awkward silence she said, “Okay. Okay, I should probably get back inside. My dad's gonna be worried. You find the way on your own?”

Sam nodded.

“Okay.”

They stood there awkwardly for another moment before Sarah actually turned and went back into the gallery. Sam sighed, looking at his hands. He felt guilty. He had ruined the evening for her, out of a stupid feeling that came out of nowhere.

There were whispers seemingly coming from the park bench behind him and Sam turned around, half expecting to see Lucifer sitting there. But there was no one, and Sam headed home with mixed feelings in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

Lucifer spent the weekend finishing his commentary on Nietzsche's _Beyond Good And Evil_. For some reason, not only Castiel was gone. Ruby and Alastair spent an hour or so in the basement but then they got bored and left together. Meg might be just about anywhere, possibly with Bela, and Azazel and Lilith were gone, too. That left Lucifer alone in the comfortably cold room and he was grateful not to be disturbed. A thought had occurred to him while he had written down another comment and now he wanted to put it into practice, Sam's words in his ear.

_But I don't know anything about you!_

He was reading through the last pages when the door opened and Meg stepped in, seemingly relieved to find him here.

“Lucifer,” she said, sitting down next to him. He nodded, prompting her to ask for whatever she wanted from him.

“Do you have a moment?” she asked, glancing at the book in his hands. Lucifer sighed and closed it before laying it down on the table.

“What is it, Meg?”

“It's about Sam,” she began cautiously, waiting for his reaction. Now she did have his attention and Lucifer sat up, looking at her expectantly. It took a few seconds before she continued.

“I need to know.... Damn it.” She bit her lip and looked down, then up again. “He's important to you, isn't he? For whatever reason, you care about him.”

Lucifer shifted in his seat. “Yes,” he murmured, not looking at her. “He's special.” If she was going to object, he was prepared to make his point clear.

But apparently this wasn't what this was about because then she said, “In this case, I need to tell you something.” She cleared her throat. “I just came home. I was out with someone, and we were just walking through town when we came by the art gallery. Mister Blake's.”

Lucifer nodded. He knew the gallery, had been there himself a few times, though he didn't know what that had to do with Sam.

Meg sighed, looked at one of the dirty glasses from the night before and, considering it clean enough, poured herself some whiskey. Lucifer watched as she took a sip.

“Mister Blake's daughter... I don't know her name. She was standing outside with Sam. I didn't recognize him at first so I didn't pay attention to them, but then I heard his voice when he tried to get rid of her after she'd tried to kiss him.”

He needed a few moments to process. For a few thoughtless seconds, the hopes he had gotten from his plan shattered to pieces because no, Sam still hadn't understood. How could he, when he went on a date with a girl?

But he hadn't kissed her. She had tried to kiss him, obviously against his will. And that was a more pressing issue. Lucifer hit his fist hard on the table, cursing himself for having stopped following Sam. She could have done anything to him, things he didn't want, and Lucifer wouldn't have been there to save him.

From the corner of his eye he could see Meg's scared expression, how she had backed up after his small outburst. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled, “I just thought I'd let you know.”

He forced himself to calm down. He could save all his anger for the right people. Breathing out deeply, he looked at the brunette girl next to him. Her usual confidence was gone and she stared at him like she was expecting a punch any second. Lucifer tilted his head.

Her first reaction when he came closer was to shrink away. He had expected that. But when his palms closed softly around her face, her eyes widened in surprise and awe.

“Thank you, Meg,” Lucifer said, looking at her from the respectable distance he left between them. “For letting me know.” The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly and she smiled at him, widely and full of adoration.

Then he let go of her and returned to his book, leaving her to stare at him while he finished the last pages. He wrote down his last comment, and then thoughtfully used the blank last page for another short text. There was no reason why he should not go through with this; he would just have to add a few things to his schedule, beginning with the least pleasant part on Monday morning. It would all work out.

After he was done, Lucifer put the completed work away and regarded Meg. Her glass was now empty, and she was still regarding him. Lucifer broke the silence.

“Did you enjoy your evening with Bela?”, he asked, pouring himself a drink.

Meg smiled, lowering her gaze into her empty glass. “She's a bitch. A sexy one, though.”

Before Lucifer could reply anything, the door flung open and Lilith jumped onto the sofa gleefully, followed by Azazel, who seemed to be pleased with himself.

“Lucifer,” he declared proudly, “We had some fun in Baldur's room. Just a little payback until we can think of something better.”

“Oh, did you?” Lucifer directed the question towards the little girl. She nodded at him, a wide smile on her face. Her lips were only a tad too pink.

 

* * *

 

“I can't believe he really dared to... I'm gonna kill him.”

Bald was still furious because of what had happened the night before when Sam woke up Sunday morning. He walked up and down the room, talking more to himself than to the pile of blankets with a sleepy Adam underneath.

Sam sat up and watched Bald's restless movements. There had been quite a fight between him and Kali last night. Sam had walked in on it. Apparently, they had come back from their night out only to discover several traces of lipstick on Bald's white sheets. Not the dark red color Kali was wearing but a light pink tone. Kali had been cold as ice when Sam had entered the room and had then left it before the door had snapped shut.

He hadn't had the nerve to get involved with that yesterday because he'd needed the sleep, but now that he thought about it, it wasn't too far-fetched that Bald could be having an affair. He was flirting with literally every girl, after all. But even Bald wouldn't be presumptuous enough to bring another girl to the home he more or less shared with his girlfriend.

It didn't surprise anyone who Bald was blaming.

“Do you really think Lucifer would run around with pink lipstick, making out with your bedsheets?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows incredulously.

Bald gave an angry snort. “I bet he would have liked that. He hit me for calling him gay, remember?” His hand consciously or subconsciously went up to his now healed nose. Sam couldn't bring himself to pity the guy. If he wanted Lucifer to pay for what he did, he could have told Abaddon. But of course, that would have wounded his pride.

“If he didn't do it himself, then he sent one of his followers. Don't know why they're all so far up his ass, anyway. It's not like they're even his friends, but they worship him like fucking satanists.”

Nobody had anything to say to that so Bald continued to curse and swear to take revenge until after a while Adam groaned, his voice still hoarse from sleeping, “You're sure you didn't-”

“Yes, Adam, I'm sure I didn't bang another girl. And God knows I could have.”

That wasn't the most likable thing to say and Sam found himself teaming up with Lucifer on the matter, whether he had something to do with it or not. Bald continued to manipulate everyone into thinking there was some kind of gang war going on between them and the _'demons'_ (Sam had to snicker at the nick-name because of their self-proclaimed _Hell_ ) throughout the day.

Sam used the time to study, surprised that he was missing something – there was no borrowed novella on the floor beneath his bed, no intense story he could enjoy. Studying was the next best thing.

Nothing else happened that day, except for one moment during breakfast where Lucifer's eyes met his. There was a small smile on his face for only a second before he looked away again, like he had had to reassure himself Sam was alright. It should have made Sam wary, bring back the uncomfortable feeling of being stalked again. But it didn't. Hell, it didn't.

 

* * *

 

Lucifer groaned, not wanting to get up.

But a very cruel person threw his pillow at him, urging him to get out of bed. “Oh come on, it won't be that bad. You rock that shit, then you leave. Won't even have to talk to anyone.”

Lucifer sat up, reluctantly stretching his back. From the corner of his eye he noticed Castiel was popping a pill. “So you're taking drugs before school now?” he muttered. It wasn't a real surprise. He had known it would come this far, it had just been a matter of time. And after Castiel had crashed his bed high as a kite a few hours ago, it had to be expected.

“Relax, it's just a Xanax. I need to do a presentation and in case you've forgotten, I'm not very good with people, either. Now get up.”

Groaning some more, Lucifer did. He had an English exam that day, and that meant he had to go to school. Even after he had found a way of dealing with people, avoiding them if possible and either ignoring their criticism or standing up to whoever thought they had the right to judge him, he still hated the place. Not only was it crowded with dull minds, it also stunted the greater ones.

The American educational system forced all students to think in a certain direction rather than letting them develop their own thoughts. Most people got their good grades not because they created anything of importance but because they knew what was expected of them and delivered.

Thankfully, his English teacher wasn't as dumb as most of her colleagues. She liked his way of thinking, his critical approach and his radicalism. He always got praise from her for his exams, but she also kept trying to force him to attend her classes. And while she was an intellectual human being, her lessons were just as awful as any other teacher's.

Lucifer finished his last sentence, satisfied with his interpretation of the poem, and dropped it to her desk half an hour early. She gave him a warm smile which Lucifer didn't return and caught his arm before he could leave. He tensed, but managed to keep himself from flinching.

“Mister Kripke,” she whispered a little nervously, “I'd really like to talk to you after school.”

Lucifer shook her off. He was half tempted to reply that he appreciated the gesture but didn't think that was necessary, but there was something in her eyes that made him nod reluctantly.

“Please come to my office in 45 minutes, will you?”

Other students were looking up from their tables now, eyeing him like they always did. He was the weird guy who barely showed up at all, mostly just for the examinations. Surely they had come up with theories about him, raging from a suspicion he could be autistic to him being a gang leader who didn't have time to go to school because he had other things to do, like fighting other gang leaders or selling drugs or whatever a gang leader did.

Lucifer scoffed and left the room, not sure where to go from there. Oddly enough, he knew Castiel's locker's location, but not his own. So he sat down beneath it and waited.

 

* * *

 

That Monday in school, Cas was weird. Sam tried to talk to him several times but he kept humming songs and ignoring everything around him, while Sam stubbornly tried to ignore or just not cross paths with Sarah, and therefore would have been glad to have someone to talk to. But it was only during their free period that Sam finally got a conversation on fourth attempt, and it was a weird one, too.

“So Cas, how was your weekend? I haven't seen you at all. What have you been doing?”

Castiel turned his head slowly and looked at Sam. The grin he was wearing wasn't as toothy as usual, which in itself would have been considerably good, but now he looked like he was about to fall asleep with a calm, dreamy smile on his face.

“Oh, it was... epiphanious.” Sam wondered what sounded wrong about his voice, aside from the made up vocabulary, until he realized the other boy was slurring just a bit. “Crowls knows all the right... oh.” His expression shifted, his eyebrows slowly meeting in the middle in a worried frown.

Sam stared at him. “Cas, are you...” He trailed off, not sure about how to end the sentence.

Cas stood up and grabbed his stuff, which took a while because he froze from time to time.

“Woah, wait. You're not feeling well, are you?” He stood beside Castiel, trying to support him. “You need to go to the nursery.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, thanks. Let go of me.”

No way was he letting go. Chances were Castiel would just collapse if he did. “No, come on, let me-”

“I said, let go.” Castiel freed himself from Sam. He didn't shout or even hiss but Sam knew that he probably would have if he could. “Now if you will excuse me,” Cas mumbled, “I really need to go to the bathroom. See you, Sam.”

Sam stared after him as Castiel went out of the room, looking like he wasn't even fully here. He decided it was probably best to go after him and followed him up to the boy's bathroom, worried something could happen to him.

To his surprise, there were voices coming from inside.

“Oh angel, what did you do?”

“Nothing... just...”

“Damn it, I told you not to use them to get high. We've got other stuff for that.”

“But I don't. I didn't. I was just so damn... sober.”

“Bloody hell...”

Upon hearing kissing sounds and even a low moan, Sam knew for sure it was time to go.

Okay, hat was... weird. He was in a bit of a shock. Sure, Cas had been weird from the moment he'd met him, but he hadn't stricken him as a drug addict. Whatever he and the British guy – Sam couldn't remember his name – had going, it wasn't any of his business. He just hoped the boy would take care of Castiel.

Slightly bewildered, he backed off and went down the almost empty hallway, no destination in mind. It really seemed like none of the teenager's at Abaddon's were the least bit okay. That made him wonder about the place. It was a group home, right? Made to help troubled teenagers, and that was also what the religious guy Henry had talked about. Troubled teenagers, they were. But who of them got any actual help from Abaddon? If anything, she even seemed to encourage some things like the drinking in the basement, if Bald didn't lie about that. Besides, Sam barely saw her at all. She was like an absent queen reigning her kingdom from afar.

His thoughts as well as his feet came to a sudden stop when he turned around the corner and saw a familiar face in totally unfamiliar surroundings. Lucifer was sitting on the floor, head lowered. Sam made some sort of noise in his throat and Lucifer looked up, his eyes meeting Sam's where he was still standing, frozen like a statue.

It looked weird, and the fact that it looked weird was even weirder. Lucifer, with his dirty blond hair and his judging looks, was leaning against the lockers. Lucifer, whom Sam had never seen in school during the weeks he had already been there. Lucifer, who was now tilting his head in amusement.

Sam sighed. He thought it was probably best to tell him about Castiel, now that he was here for a change. They were close, so maybe he could help him better than that other guy. So Sam went to him, and Lucifer stood up to meet him.

“Hi,” Sam said awkwardly, staying a few feet away from Lucifer. “So, you bless us with your presence after all?” He didn't know where his sarcasm came from and if Lucifer would be offended, but how else should he approach him? After all, he had no mysterious memory to dwell on.

Lucifer nodded, a small smile on his face. “I do need to be here from time to time. Apparently, my teachers get bored without me.” He glanced to the clock hanging on the wall behind Sam. He followed his gaze.

“You got an appointment?” The mental image of Lucifer scaring off a middle-aged teacher crossed his mind and for some reason he had to smile.

Lucifer shrugged. “I don't know why I'm still here. Or... I didn't.” He gave Sam a suggestive look and Sam felt heat crawl up his back. “But there is just something about her... She's not dumb.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “She shouldn't be, it's a teacher. Who is it you're talking about?”

“Hm...” He frowned in concentration for a while before he gave up and shook his head. “I don't remember her name. She has natural red hair, teaches English Literature and Computer Science and... isn't dumb.”

That seemed to be all he could come up with and Sam laughed. “You really don't go to school often, do you? But I think I know who you're talking about, I noticed her on the hallways because she once wore a Star Trek shirt.”

Lucifer smiled right at him, more of a smile than the small ones he had gotten before, and Sam thought about how weird it was that they were having a normal conversation about teachers and Star Trek. And he smiled back.

Just as they smiled at each other, the period was over and students came running down the hallway. The moment was gone and Sam could see Lucifer's expression darken with all the other people around.

“It was nice talking to you, Sam,” he murmured, glancing around, “but I need to accompany our science officer to the bridge now.”

Sam huffed a laugh and nodded, already turning around when he remembered why he had talked to Lucifer in the first place.

“Oh, hey! Castiel, he's... I don't think he's feeling too well. You should probably check on him, he's in the boy's bathroom over there.” Sam pointed in the general direction and Lucifer nodded, a slightly worried frown on his face. Then he disappeared into the crowd and Sam just felt weird for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

“Follow me,” his teacher said with a smile, and Lucifer did, albeit feeling wrong doing so. Not only did he not want to talk to an authority, now he also felt like he was missing out on things. Sam had talked to him, of his own accord. They had had a conversation that had gone well. That was some progress.

And apparently, Castiel had gotten into trouble already. Lucifer didn't want to think about what kinds of substances the boy had foiled his system with this time. And he didn't need to for now, because they were at his teacher's office and he followed her inside, hoping she wouldn't disappoint him too much.

“Sit down.” Lucifer didn't want to. He felt like a slave, too submissive, and he immediately regretted ever having agreed to talk to her.

“I'll stand, thanks.”

There was a look of surprise on her face but then she smiled again, standing next to him and brushing a strain of hair out of her face.

“Mister Kripke. Are you aware you had an appointment with Doctor Roman?”

Lucifer frowned. “Is that my mathematics teacher?” She nodded. “In this case, yes.”

“You didn't keep it.”

Although she simply stated a fact in that nice, carefree way of hers, it was offensive enough for Lucifer to furrow his brows. “No, I didn't.”

She sighed, seemingly understanding that judgmental implications wouldn't get her anywhere. “You weren't here for your exam last week. If you don't have a doctor's certificate for that day, you will get an F.”

Lucifer shrugged. It didn't bother him. He didn't educate himself in order to get good grades and a job, he did it as an end in itself. Mathematics were boring. It wasn't like he didn't understand, it just didn't interest him. Solving problems with numbers and variables didn't explain anything about the world.

“Why does it concern you? I believe I took every English exam.”

His teacher let out a desperate laugh. “Yes, and they're... incredible. Just like your papers. I have no idea how you manage them so well although you miss nearly all of my classes. If you attended school more regularly, you could easily be in Advanced Placement. Your SATs...” She shook her head. “They're fine, amazing considering how many classes you missed.”

Lucifer was getting impatient. Staying in school had been a mistake he wouldn't make again, this conversation wasn't worth it. “So what's the problem?”

“I'm concerned!” She looked like she wanted to touch him but thankfully thought better of it. “We have talked to Sister Abbey many times and I understand that you're... different. But if you keep staying home, you will be placed on audit status. You won't get any credit for your work, which would be a pity.”

Sighing, Lucifer turned to leave. “I really do not care.”

“Wait, eh, Lucifer,” she changed strategies, calling him by his first name. Apparently she was under the illusion that a more intimate conversation would get her what she wanted.

“There's something else I wanted to talk to you about.” She hesitated, biting her lip and avoiding his gaze. It was like the teacher had left and the person behind it was now talking to him. That couldn't mean anything good. “Have you... seen a therapist?”

Lucifer laughed and was just about to leave, but was held back by the teacher's arm on his. The laugh died on his lips. Again, he barely kept himself from overreacting and drew his arm away from her, this time more forcefully. Her hair color irritated him. Like a ghost of the bright red he hated so much.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you, but I'm worried and I think-”

“Listen,” Lucifer said, standing up straight and staring her down, “I neither want nor need any help. I couldn't care less about my grades. I don't get my confidence from them, I don't want to please my teachers and I don't have any aims for the future. I'd like to say I'm sorry but I'm not. Goodbye, Miss...”

“Bradbury,” she replied automatically, her eyes wide like those of a scared animal. She may be smart, but she wasn't brave enough to corner Lucifer.

He nodded a goodbye and was gone before she could hold him back another time.

Lucifer sighed. What a waste of time. Now he had to find his presumably drugged brother.

Thankfully, the hallways weren't as full anymore. That had to mean another period had started, though Lucifer had never memorized time tables.

He went straight to the bathroom Sam had pointed out but stopped when he heard noises coming out of the small room. Noises he didn't like to hear.

“Fuck... umm... not here...”

He flung the door open. Castiel was leaning in the far corner, Crowley's dick in his hands. And Jesus, he had never wanted to see that. Unlike Crowley, who jumped and stared at Lucifer in a panic, Castiel seemed unaware of another person in the room.

Without thinking further, Lucifer took large steps in their direction and dragged Castiel away from the other boy and out of the room fast, ignoring the confused “What...?” coming from him and leaving the Brit behind without any comment. Castiel had crossed yet another line.

“Are you out of your mind?”, he growled as he dragged him along the hallway. He was trembling hard. He tried to suppress it but it had already been too much today. Why did it always come all at once?

“Lucifer?” Castiel mumbled. “What are you doing?” The few other students around were staring at them.

“Getting you away from here.”

Castiel stumbled when they rushed around a corner and Lucifer had to support him. “No. No, I've got lessons to attend to.” He sounded confused and tired.

Lucifer snorted. “What kind of lessons, Castiel? Private lessons in the bathroom?”

Castiel said nothing to that, but weakly freed himself from Lucifer's grip and tried to stand on his own. Lucifer stopped, staring at the stumbling figure in front of him. Watching the weak state Castiel was in gave him strength and he stood steadily before him, the archangel speaking to the foot soldier.

“How far have you fallen to disgrace yourself like that?”

Castiel looked at him for a moment before a tired grin spread across his face. “There's nothing to disgrace, Lucifer.”

Lucifer said nothing. He didn't like the answer, and he wasn't used to that kind of honesty coming out of Castiel's mouth. But after the speech he'd given his teacher, he couldn't really say anything against those kinds of thoughts. At least it sounded like he was willing to go home with him, and so he turned wordlessly and kept on leading the way, a drugged out of his mind Castiel following him with some difficulties. Before they could leave the building though, a brunette girl Lucifer thought he'd seen before stopped them.

“Castiel! Are you alright?” The question was as needless as her company.

Castiel forced a stoned smile. “Don't worry about me. I've got a fallen angel to fly me home.”

The girl looked irritated but thankfully turned away again. “Well, I'm late for our history class so I have to hurry, but I'll tell Mister Colt. Get well soon.” She smiled at him pitifully and walked off.

“Who was that?”, Lucifer asked once she was out of earshot.

Castiel shook his head, taking slow unsure steps beside him. “Just a girl from Sam's and my history class. Sarah Blake... I think. Although...” He paused for so long Lucifer thought he had simply forgotten to finish the sentence. “The way she looks at Sam sometimes... you may have a competitor there.”

And if Castiel knew how right he was about that, and how he had just spared Lucifer a visit at the Blake's art gallery. This had just become a whole lot easier.

 

* * *

 

Either Lucifer had gone after him or Castiel had left the school by himself because the next time Sam saw him was during dinner, where he looked a lot better already. It wasn't until the next day at school that Sam talked to him again, though.

“You're better?”, he asked while he took out his notebook before the class started.

Cas nodded. “I learned my lesson. I promise never to swallow more than one Xanax again.” A box of tobacco fell out of his bag as he fished out a piece of paper and a pen.

“Xanax?” Sam furrowed his brows. “Isn't that for anxiety? Do you...” He trailed of. It was fairly indiscreet to be asking him such a question, and Sam could have punched himself. Dean was usually the one to be tactless.

But Castiel merely shrugged. “I don't know, I probably have it to some degree. Who doesn't?”

Sam didn't say anything to that, but someone else did.

“You shouldn't mess around with medicine some people actually need.”

Sarah. Sam bit his lip. He didn't know why he couldn't look her in the eye anymore. Maybe he was just too embarrassed about how he had acted Saturday night. Retrospectively, it seemed like an overreaction. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed a girl before and wanted to save it for someone – there had been something between him and that girl Amy before his father had killed her mother – but what could he say, the idea of getting involved into something serious with Sarah just didn't feel right.

It had been easy to avoid her the day before, when they hadn't shared a break. And even now the teacher unintentionally saved him from turning around when the lesson began. But his luck couldn't last forever and Sarah, of course, sat down in front of him during lunch.

“Sam, are you avoiding me?”

He almost choked on his salad, but managed not to. Instead, he kept chewing endlessly until it was obvious he was just doing it to avoid answering her question. Beside him, Cas chuckled shamelessly.

“No,” he finally blurted out when the last trace of lettuce had left his mouth, as if there had been no pause at all. “Not at all. What makes you think that?” As soon as the words were out, he realized she could be thinking he was being sarcastic. Thankfully, she didn't.

Sarah shrugged. “I don't know, maybe it's because you haven't looked at me since Saturday?”

Sam tore his eyes away from the little piece of onion that had escaped his plate and forced himself to look at Sarah. “No, it's not that. It's all fine.” He forced a smile.

The brunette raised an eyebrow. “Okay, great. So do you wanna hang out later?”

Technically, he didn't need to study today. His latest tests had been almost perfect and all the teachers loved him for his contributions to the discussions in class. There was not much material left to catch up on; in fact he was already ahead of his English class. He had even thought about skipping his study time in favor of spending a Tuesday with his roommates for a change. Now, though, this was a perfect excuse.

“I can't, Sarah,” he lied, “I still need to work a lot to be on everyone's level. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my regular study days.”

Sarah just nodded, and although he could just have gone home after school, he now felt the need to do something with his brain.

So he did go to the library again. Only this time, he checked for Lucifer behind the bookshelf before he went to his seat. There was no one there and Sam had yet to decide if, after recent events, he was relieved or slightly disappointed, when he spotted the book lying on his table.

With a little happy flutter in his chest that probably wasn't supposed to be there, he picked it up. It wasn't property of the library, there was no stamp and unlike most of the library books, this was not a paperback but a cloth-bound hardcover edition without a title printed on it. It was old, though, and in the corner of the first page it said “Scribe of God Antiquarian Bookshop” and just below that “5$”, both written in big, messy handwriting.

The pages were worn and already had a brownish touch to them. Unlike the solid binding, the insides of the book almost fell apart as Sam skimmed through it. It didn't take him long to notice the many comments on the sides and between the lines, sometimes just one or two words, sometimes whole paragraphs filling every last bit of empty space on the page.

Sam took a closer look at the handwriting. It was more or less the opposite of the bookseller's, neat and small and a little bit forced in some places during longer paragraphs or in comments that seemed to be more emotional.

Only after skimming through the whole book and finding that there was a comment or just a random thought on nearly every page did Sam skip back to the first page to see what kind of book he was holding. It was a translation of one of Nietzsche's books. _Beyond Good And Evil_ , it said in old English letters.

He looked up from the book and let his gaze wander through the library, looking for the one who had undoubtedly dropped it on his usual table. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen, though, and Sam thought, well, screw studying, he didn't really need it anymore anyway.

So his schoolbooks remained in his bag as Sam sat down and started reading. To be honest, he had read a lot about Nietzsche but it was his first time reading one of his original texts. It was demanding, there was no denying that. He couldn't read the complex sentences as fast as he read through novels and had to stop and think about what exactly the words meant from time to time. The comments were worth it though, sometimes just making Nietzsche's point clear by relating the abstract thoughts to a simpler example of everyday life, sometimes criticizing him or offering another opinion or a slightly different way of looking at the issue.

After having read just a few pages, Sam found himself skipping parts of the original text more often than not in favor of getting to Lucifer's comments. Some of them were surprisingly personal, though at times hard to understand without background knowledge about Lucifer's family. One of the paragraphs dealt with nature and whether or not one could live according to it, and Lucifer had written an equally long paragraph on his father's work. Apparently, he was some sort of scientist eager to analyze patterns in the behavior of nature's creatures. Michael, an unspecified relative of Lucifer's, had interpreted it to be _in his nature_ to follow through with his work. Not only that, but he had forced this believe onto Lucifer and had rejected him once he had explained his position.

_I am not like you, as much as I used to wish for it. I am different. Nature made me this way and I will do my best to use what I've got instead of trying to be someone I'm not._

He stopped reading for a moment and thought about the undeniable resemblance. Like Lucifer, he had been expected to live a life he didn't want for himself. It hurt him to disappoint his family – and there was a lot of pain between the lines of Lucifer's later comments, too – but he needed to make his own choices. His longing for freedom outweighed his loyalty, and that was exactly what he found in Lucifer's neatly written texts.

Sam sighed. There he was, reading his stalker's thoughts on life and agreeing with almost too many of them. That didn't mean there weren't some parts that seemed to fit the image of the stone-cold creep Lucifer embodied. Some of his words were full of hatred towards humanity and certain people in particular. Sam recognized the attitude as one he himself had in his darkest hours, when he judged everything and everyone around him, like on the day when he had first set foot in Abaddon's house. It was a way of thinking that sometimes came upon him, but certailny one he didn't want to have. He didn't _want_ to hate, it was just something that happened in desperate moments when he hated himself most of all.

Lucifer, however, didn't fight it.

_As it is now, I'm having a hard time believing that anything good can come out of this species. Even if there are some decent human beings, how can they make up for all the other worthless cockroaches inhabiting this planet?_

Despite the underlying misanthropy, Sam kept reading. And while he did, his image of Lucifer expanded further and further, leaving him with a much better understanding of him once the unfriendly librarian kicked him out.

He hadn't even noticed how dark it already was outside. Sam couldn't remember ever having walked home at night after his study sessions and so he quickly stored the book away in his bag and hurried back to Abaddon's place. He already knew he would be late for dinner.

 

* * *

 

“Where is Sam?”

The sound of his name forced Lucifer back into reality. The fight they had had and the worry about Castiel slipped from his mind and he became aware of the blond girl standing in the doorway. He had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice anything around him before, but now he was on alert.

Why wasn't Sam here yet? Where was he? Did he even go to the library that day?

It had been a fairly high risk to just leave the book lying there openly for everyone to read. It contained some of his inner thoughts and enough information about his background to make himself vulnerable. If anyone but Sam was going to read this, Lucifer would have to personally make sure they would never be able to talk about it.

If Sam had never gone to the library at all and had instead gone on a date with Sarah or something like that, Lucifer was screwed. Maybe it had been a mistake.

“What makes you think he's down here, bitch?” Ruby asked, not even looking at Jo.

The blond girl obviously felt uncomfortable in their territory. She shifted from one foot to the other and crossed her arms. “I don't know, maybe you corrupted him.”

Ruby snorted, but Lucifer felt Castiel's and Meg's eyes on him.

“He's not with us,” he said to Jo, watching her with a frown.

“Okay,” Jo replied without looking back at him, “If you see him, tell him he's gotta help in the kitchen.”

“What?” Alastair's slurred voice filled the room unpleasantly like a cloud of smoke. “Since when do men have to do kitchen duty? That's a woman's job.”

The room was uncomfortably quiet, except for Castiel's chuckles and Lilith humming a children's song. Meg shushed Castiel with a gesture of her hand.

“Get used to it,” Jo said with a fake smile on her face. “We quit. Anna, Kali and I have been doing all the cooking for months, it's someone else's turn now.”

“Hey, hey,” Ruby protested, “that's not true! I came by with Lilith to help from time to time.”

Jo rolled her eyes and looked at the little girl playing with a doll's head not far from where Ruby stood. “She's more of a pain in the ass than anything else.”

Lucifer liked the way Lilith stopped humming and tightened her grip around the doll's hair without so much as a sound or looking up.

“Anyway,” Jo continued, “You're all in for it sooner or later. Except for...” She glanced at Lucifer for only a second before shifting like she was going to leave. “Whatever, see you later.”

No one questioned Lucifer as he went after her and the door fell shut behind them before Lucifer raised his voice.

“Hey.”

She turned around, seemingly surprised to see him standing behind her. “Oh, hello... Lucifer.”

Lucifer didn't give a damn about her discomfort. “I want to take his shift.”

Jo looked him over, a doubtful frown on her face. Maybe she expected him to start laughing and reveal that he was just kidding. After a while of studying him, she finally shrugged. “You... okay, sure. Anna's already in the kitchen, you can go help her.”

He nodded and went past her and into the kitchen. That was the least he could do, if he couldn't find Sam... only because he had let him go, stopped watching him when Sam had proven for the second time now that he needed to be watched.

So, disgracing as it was, he peeled potatoes for him. Even if that meant that Anna wasn't the only redhead he'd encounter.

“Lucifer...”

The chanting voice coming from behind him sent a shiver down his back, and not in a pleasant way. She was mocking him again. Playing with him.

“Now, what are you doing here? I thought I'd told Jo to get me little Sammy.” He could feel the brush of her leather jacket against his back and almost accidentally cut himself. He swore to himself and laid the knife down on the kitchen counter, in a save distance for him not to be able to hurt himself, yet not too far away to grab it and use it as a weapon to defense himself, would it be necessary.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “He's not here. I'll do the job for him.”

There was a surprised, arrogant huffing sound. “The things you do for him... Now, this is getting interesting.”

The presence behind him vanished as sudden as it had appeared and Lucifer relaxed. He noticed there was no chopping sound coming from Anna's direction anymore and checked to see if she was still with him. Their eyes met, and the girl looked at him in confusion and something... that... couldn't possibly be pity.

Anna had no clue. She had no clue about what was happening, no idea about what had happened in the past. He envied her. Envied her for having no memory. And still – who was she to pity him?

Lucifer made a disapproving sound and returned to his task.

 

* * *

 

The others were already eating when Sam finally came back. He didn't draw too much attention but Jo rolled her eyes at him and Bald laughed. While walking towards his table, Sam's eyes searched for Lucifer and found him sitting at the small table alone, with Cas sitting at the group table nearby. Lucifer was looking at him and, after their gazes had interlocked for a moment too long, smiled a little. Sam looked away.

“Where the hell have you been?” Jo prompted.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled, “Forgot the time at the library.” He stared at the full plate that was already laid out for him.

Anna answered his unspoken question. “We thought we'd save you some food.” From the way Jo snorted, he guessed that she wasn't implied in 'we'.

“Thanks.” He smiled at Anna and sat down to eat his meal, the chewing and swallowing saving him from further conversation. When he was finally done and most people had already left, his plans were to go straight to his room to continue reading, but Anna put a light hand on his forearm.

“Don't you want to help me clean the dishes?”

Sam looked at her surprised. No one had ever asked him to help with anything, and now he started to wonder who did all the work anyway. It wasn't Abaddon. And if it wasn't her, and there was never any staff around, that left only them. Except Sam had never helped, and he suddenly felt guilty for it. He could have offered his help earlier.

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Anna smiled at him and they collected everyone's tableware. It was only when Sam looked up that he realized Lucifer was helping, too. He was walking into the kitchen with a pile of plates in his hands.

When he looked questioningly at Anna, she smiled. “He took your shift earlier. You were supposed to help with the cooking, too.“

It took him a moment to comprehend that Lucifer, proud and usually avoiding any human contact, had done what would have been his job, before he could reply to the obvious.

“My- Anna, I'm sorry.” And he really was. If only he hadn't been so lost in that book...

But Anna just shook her head, the smile not yet faltered. “He did a good job.”

“Yes, but I would have done it, I just didn't know.” Sam frowned. “Not that I'm complaining, but since when do we have shifts for that?”

Anna sighed. “Jo and Kali don't want to do it anymore, although we always had fun. I think it's part of the war we're supposed to have with the others.”

It was surprisingly relieving to talk to someone as kind as Anna about the whole thing. Like him, she wasn't too keen on the mutual hate between them and would have preferred to avoid a rivalry. ”So you think that's stupid, too?” Sam huffed a laugh.

“I think it's unnecessary.” She smiled before she continued carefully, “I don't think they're as bad as Baldur makes it seem.”

The look she gave him after that made Sam wonder for a second if she could read his mind and knew about his inner struggle whether to let himself like Lucifer or not. A moment later, though, she averted her gaze and the conversation was over for now.

When they brought the dishes into the kitchen, Lucifer was already gone, the plates he had carried all as clean as they could get with the endless amount of scratches in the porcelain. They washed the remaining dishes and both went to their rooms.

Sam spent the rest of the night reading Lucifer's book, ignoring Bald's ranting about whomever and Adam's complaints about having to worry about cooking and dish washing soon. They didn't even try to talk to him anymore while he was reading, after all they knew from the novellas how fascinated he could be with a story.

He had never been too lost in a book to put it away once everyone else wanted to sleep though, and so he had never been asked to turn off the light before.

“Sam, other people are trying to sleep, you know.”

Bald was standing at his bed. Sam ignored him. He had just had a brilliant thought related to what Lucifer had written, and listening to what he was saying would make it slip away.

“Hello?” There was an annoying snapping sound and a hand in his sight. “I'm talking to you. Gee, what are you reading anyway?”

The hand grabbed his book and Sam woke out of his thoughts and snatched it back. “It's none of your business, Baldur.”

He hadn't wanted his voice to sound so bitter, almost hateful. Sam blinked in surprise. He had been so deep into Lucifer's misanthropic thinking that it had eventually taken over his actions. Bald looked at him like he had gone mad.

“I'm sorry, Bald,” Sam said while shaking his head. “It's just... philosophy, and it's frying my brain.” He grinned. “It's okay.” He turned the small lamp on the desk behind him off.

“Well, then don't read friggin' philosophy,” Bald murmured before he went back to his bed.

After lying awake for half an hour though, Sam knew he wasn't going to sleep this night anyway. So he took the book and, quietly as he could, sneaked out of the room.

He ended up sitting on the stairs at the end of the corridor with only his boxers and a T-shirt to keep him warm. The window was leaky. Cold night air hit his skin like a thousand icy needles and made him shiver. But at least the moonlight keeping him company made it possible for him to read, and he couldn't stop until he had finished the book.

The handwritten text on the last page made him smile before he fell asleep with his head against the cold glass.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Lucifer woke to an empty room, which meant that Castiel had not returned last night. He was probably in Crowley's room, hopefully not sharing a bed.

There had been nothing new about their fight the other day. Same old argument about Castiel's drug use, his trust in a dubious British stranger and Lucifer's concerns with it. And it became more and more frustrating with every fight. Castiel was angry with Lucifer for 'taking control over his life', when really he didn't know how much it meant.

Lucifer wasn't usually one to intervene. The fact that he did meant he had gotten too close to Castiel, had let the boy be his friend, his brother. It had taken a lot of self-injury on Castiel's side for Lucifer to realize it. And of course, as soon as he had something like a friend for the first time in his life, it was taken away from him.

He sighed as he pushed back the sheets and got out of bed. The weather was as gray as his mind, he missed the cigarette smoke usually in the room when he woke up and the thought crossed his mind to just stay home today. But there were other things he needed to take care of.

Important things.

There was no need for him to regret his lost friendship. After all, he had been alone for most of his life, and now he was craving someone else's affection.

He had already opened the door to the bathroom when he noticed a human shape on the stairs from the corner of his eye. He turned to look, and realized it was Sam.

Careful not to make a sound, he approached the sleeping boy. His head had fallen against the window and with that angle he would be sore for the whole day. Lucifer was already thinking about throwing another fist fight with Bald, just for the possibility that he had thrown Sam out, when he saw the open book lying next to him.

He smiled, knelt down to close it and stopped. Sam's face was right in front of him. His long hair had fallen into his face, closed eyelids twitching in his sleep. People looked so innocent when they were sleeping. Younger. In their sleep, everyone was an angel.

Lucifer got to his feet with a content sigh. He gently shook Sam's shoulder and listened to the sweet sleepy moan behind him as he went into the bathroom before Sam could become aware of where he was.

If that wasn't a good sign. But there was still something he needed to take care of.

Just as planned, there were no other kids yet when he came to the school's gate. He waited patiently as some younger students arrived first, one after another, and then a group of a few people walking out of a school bus.

_ She _  was one of the last students to arrive.  As soon as he saw her, Lucifer stepped out of his hiding spot and dragged her with him behind a corner, pushing her against the wall and holding both of her wrists.

“Hello Sarah,” he murmured while studying her face closely. She was nothing special. Just another filthy woman ready to spoil whatever she could get between her slim fingers.

“What the-”, Sarah hissed, trying to get away from him. She shook her hands in frustration and only stopped to get a better look at him. “Wait, you're the guy who went home with Castiel yesterday, aren't you? What do you want from me?”

Lucifer smirked. He liked the way she helplessly tried to get rid of him but couldn't. How she was powerless against him. It reminded him of the butterflies he squashed between his palms from time to time. And like the butterflies, her useless fidgeting wouldn't get her anywhere.

“I just need to talk to you about someone,” he said conversationally, like he wasn't about to threaten her. “Someone in your class.”

Sarah shook her head defenselessly. “I have no idea what you're talking about. I barely even talk to Castiel, I've got nothing to do with him.”

“This is not about Castiel.” Lucifer easily dodged the kicks she was trying to hit him with. “It's about Sam.”

The girl's expression shifted to confusion, her brows furrowed and her lips parted. “Sam?” she huffed, chuckling bitterly for only a second. “I don't think he's interested in me, if that's what you mean.”

Lucifer nodded patiently. “You're right, he's not. I just want to make sure you comprehend.” He tightened his grip around her and came so close he could have counted her eyelashes if he wanted to. It made her cocky attitude fade away like footsteps in the sand and Lucifer felt more confident with every second.

“If you try to get in any way intimate with him again or even talk to him unnecessarily, I will make you wish you were never born.” She was already staring at him with her eyes wide in terror, but he still underlined his message with a growled, “Are we clear?”

He didn't get a direct answer, although the fear in her eyes and her rapid breathing was already enough of an answer, and when tears started to build up in her eyes as he pushed her flesh further into the uneven wall, he finally let go of her.

“I hope you learned your lesson.” His voice was calm again. The adrenaline rush of power was giving him strength and he stood tall and stable in front of her while she was shaking and nodding hastily.

“Yes.” It was barely audible, but enough for Lucifer.

A cold smile spread across his face. “Good.”

He left her behind and went back to his daily routine of reading through the very bad schoolbooks and looking up the more interesting topics in vastly better books he found in the library. So far, everything was going according to plan.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Although his neck hurt like hell all day, Sam couldn't stop smiling. He kept the book in his bag, intending to give it back later that day. Maybe they would talk about it. He had some thoughts already prepared in case Lucifer was going to ask him about his opinion on some specific things.

“You look disgustingly happy today,” Cas commented on his unusually good mood.

Sam laughed. “Do I? And I thought philosophy was supposed to depress people.”

Castiel nodded affirmatively. “It is. Philosophy majors are like suicide missions. I must know, I'm considering taking one.”

They both laughed — Castiel with some underlying bitterness, but still.

“So Plato,” Cas prompted after there was silence again, “did you discover the meaning of life, or why are you so ecstatic?”

“I almost did, but then I fell asleep.” Sam grinned. “Nah, I just read some inspiring words by your scary roommate.” After the words were out of his mouth, Sam remembered addressing Lucifer in a similar way when he had first talked to Cas. Only now he just used the term in a satirical way.

Castiel's eyebrows went up. “You did? I didn't know he was a published author. The things you learn about your fellows...”

Sam could tell from the smile playing around the corners of his mouth that he was being ironic, but he corrected him anyway. “Not like that,” he laughed. “I read his commentary on one of Nietzsche's books.”

“Oh, that.” Cas nodded. “I watched him work his way through it for weeks. Hope it was worth it.”

“It definitely was.” He couldn't help the slightly adoring smile that spread over his lips. “I wanted to give it back to him, do you know where I can find him once school's over?”

Castiel shifted in his seat and lowered his gaze, though his voice was as casual as always when he spoke. “We're not really on good terms at the moment.”

Sam frowned. That would explain why they hadn't shared a table since Monday morning. “Oh... Okay, I hope it's nothing serious?” He didn't worry so much about Cas, who seemed to get along with most people in some way, whereas Lucifer seemed to have no one but him. But Castiel merely shrugged.

“He just needs to get his shit together and stop trying to control me.” He absently started to peel off the skin of his nail beds. “Regardless of that, he's usually either at the library or in the forest nearby, the one behind Abaddon's. Sometimes he gets home earlier though, so you'll just have to try your luck.”

Sam nodded. He noticed with a relieved sigh that Sarah hadn't joined their conversation. Nor did she sit at their table during lunch break. It seemed like she had taken Sam's hints that he didn't want to befriend her just now.

He found Lucifer in the late afternoon, sitting on one of the rocks at the playground next to the library with a book in his hands. Sam hadn't wanted to scour the woods so he had figured he could just stop by the library on his way home. And there he was, facing the building so that he couldn't see Sam approaching him.

The bright sunlight made his dirty blond hair look more golden, almost like it was shining, and Sam wondered if he had ever actually seen him in the sun. He stepped closer as quietly as he could manage, the open book in his hands.

“Dear Sam,” he declaimed, continuing only after Lucifer had turned around. “I'm glad you read this far. If my estimation of you is right, you are going to find that we think alike in many aspects. If not, then I have completely misjudged you and I'm sorry to have bothered you with this lecture. In any case, you do now know more about my inner thoughts than anybody else, which I hope is what you wanted. From the moment you walked into the hallway, I knew I had to get to you. The whole time, I was trying to make you see what we are, what we could be. Don't fear me, Sam. I'm on your side, and on your side only. Lucifer.”

Now that he read it aloud, Sam was sure he would have found it intimidating if he hadn't read the  hundreds of pages first. But as soon as he looked up to see Lucifer smile, he knew the other boy had just been ahead of him. He had just  _ known _ .

“You read it.”

The smile was audible in his voice and Sam could feel his heart pound faster. He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair before he sat down on the rock in front of Lucifer and let his feet glide down the smooth surface, until they found purchase on two little cracks near the bottom.

“I devoured it.”

There was a knowing look in Lucifer's eyes and Sam wondered if he had watched him read in the library, or maybe at home. Somehow, the thought wasn't disturbing. “So what do you think of Nietzsche's aphorisms?”

Sam took a moment to think about his overall judgment, blinking into the sun. He had thought so much about Lucifer's comments that he had almost forgotten to forge an opinion on the actual text.

After a while, he said, “I like his writing style.” Because that was the first general thing he could come up with without getting into a specific topic.

He looked at Lucifer, whose face lay in shadows. “Me too. It's different from most philosopher's clear and rational phrasings. There's emotion in the way he conveys his message.”

“Yeah, though it's mostly negative emotions,” Sam laughed.

Lucifer's lips quirked into a small smile. “For a reason. Sometimes radical hate is necessary to make people listen.”

“ Mh, I don't know,” Sam argued, and they went on discussing different aspects of the topics addressed in  _ Beyond Good And Evil  _ in a way that was sophisticated enough to make both of them think but also carefree enough not to embarrass  either of them. Sam had never had a discussion like this before. Dean and his dad weren't interested at all in philosophy and the few people he had met who were were either teachers or awfully arrogant people who wouldn't even talk to you if you hadn't read Kant's complete works.

With Lucifer, Sam felt like he could just let go. He could reply to an abstract thesis in an equally complex way, or he could simplify the issue and throw in his own experiences, and no matter what he did, Lucifer listened carefully and responded with things that sometimes opened doors Sam hadn't known had been closed.

They didn't always agree but they always made their point clear and understood where the other one came from. It was a lot like reading Lucifer's more abstract comments, only that now he could share his disagreements and see what Lucifer had to say to them – and he always defended his position so well and yet unoffending that it left Sam speechless more often than not. It was only after at least two hours of thinking and rethinking that Sam's brain just gave up.

“Okay, now I'm lost,” he laughed and buried his face in his hands. “Give me a break.”

Lucifer chuckled. “No problem at all. It was a dumb idea to get you started on one of his later works, too. Of course it wouldn't be easy to understand.”

“To be honest,” Sam mumbled while rubbing his skin, partly to avoid Lucifer's gaze, “It was really your commentary that kept me going through the book so fast.”

When he looked up again, blue eyes were focused on him. Lucifer didn't say anything and for a moment, they just looked at each other. It wasn't awkward, it was more of a reassurance that they both knew what Sam knew. They hadn't talked about the commentary, especially the more personal parts, during their conversation, but they both knew it was there. That was enough for now.

“I really liked it,” Sam said finally after staring at Lucifer for what felt like an eternity. “Thank you.” He held the book out for Lucifer to take it back, but he shook his head.

“No, keep it.” He gently shoved it back at him, his fingers brushing over Sam's lightly. The weird feeling in his stomach intensified.

“Oh, but it's beautiful...” Sam ran his hand over the old fabric and along the uneven pages on the side. Maybe it wasn't in a perfect condition but its flaws gave it a personality, a fitting body for the thoughts inside.

“I know,” Lucifer agreed, watching Sam's movements with interest. “That's why I want you to have it.”

Sam didn't know what to say to that, so he just said, “Thank you” as affectionately as possible without making it seem like he just got an engagement ring and put the book back in his bag.

To break the tension between them he added, “You got it from an antiquarian bookshop, right?” He swallowed nervously before he asked, “Want to take me there?”

Lucifer's eyes were piercing through him again. He crossed his arms and grinned all of sudden, something Sam hadn't seen on him before.

“No.”

That kind of took Sam off guard and he was about to explain that he was just looking for cheap books when Lucifer went on, “The antiquarian is an ass. And I think he's got a thing for Naomi.”

Sam let out a breath. So it wasn't about not wanting to meet Sam again. Which he could have guessed if he was still able to think straight, what with the stalking and all.

It occurred to him seconds later that he should probably verbally react to what Lucifer had said. “Naomi...?” he asked.

Lucifer pointed up to where they could see the silhouette of the librarian sitting at her desk behind the window.

“Naomi...?” Sam repeated, a laugh in his voice. “You're on first name basis?”

The blond boy shrugged. “I don't know if it even is her real name. She started calling me Lucifer so I made up a name for her.”

Sam laughed, but that brought him to something he was still unsure about. Who knew when he would be given another chance to address the topic?

“Do you like being called Lucifer?”

Lucifer stiffened and lowered his gaze, and Sam immediately regretted having asked. “I'm sorry-”

“No, it's okay.” Lucifer absently touched the raw surface of the stone next to his thigh. “It's just not an easy question. I used to like it when I was little. Then I hated it. Now it gives me strength.” He frowned. “If it irritates you, feel free to give me a nickname.”

Sam thought about this and finally shook his head slowly. “It doesn't irritate me,” he said carefully, not sure if it would be wise to share his thoughts... But he thought that getting strength from other people's hatred towards you was not the right reason to like such a beautiful name. Sam hesitated before he finished his sentence. “But for now I'll call you Luce, if that's okay.”

Lucifer regarded him through squinted eyes. The sun had returned and warm orange light now hit both of their faces. “May I call you Sammy in return?”

Sam blinked. Nobody here had called him Sammy before. The nickname was a reminder of what he had left behind. A caring, protective brother. But Dean was no longer the only person who cared about him.

“Sure.”

They smiled at each other and Lucifer stretched his back. “I think we should go soon.”

Sam yawned and jumped off the rock. “Yeah, I can't leave Anna hanging again.”

“Don't worry about that.” Lucifer grabbed his back and stood up. “I'm doing it.”

“Uh-uh,” Sam laughed, “you're not. At least not without me.”

“Aw Sammy, you don't need to do the cooking and dishes to spend time with me.”

“That's not it!” Sam rolled his eyes with a smile on his face and they jokingly argued over it on their way back.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was a bit like a dream. A good one, not one of his nightmares. Despite his strong will to be close to Sam, he wouldn't have thought it to be that easy after the boy had fought him during his first few weeks. One moment he had asked him to stay away, and the next he had practically asked him out.

He didn't know how he would describe the feeling to someone who had always had people in their lives who accepted and supported them. To them, it would have been nothing but a pleasant afternoon spent with yet another potential friend. Maybe the start of something new, who knew, but nothing unusual.

To Lucifer, it was everything. If he had connected to Sam before, now he was bound to him. It was exactly how he had known it would be. Maybe Sam didn't agree with everything he said – maybe he was too afraid to – but he listened and, more importantly, he understood.

No one had ever  _ understood _  Lucifer as well as he did. Castiel had pretended to listen but cared too little about the world to really bother to understand his words. Teachers had given him credit for the complexity of his thoughts but had dissociated themselves from the meaning.

Sam understood.

And Lucifer wasn't sure if he would be able to stay away from him any longer. But chances were he wouldn't have to.

They arrived together at their so-called home and walked into Adam, Jo, Castiel and Crowley in the hallway.

“No, I just don't understand your problem.” Castiel's eyes flickered to Lucifer's for a second when they came in, and then back to Adam. “So we accidentally crashed on the wrong bed, won't happen again.”

“In the wrong room, Castiel!” Adam wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I won't sleep in this bed tonight. I won't...”

“Relax, buddy,” Castiel scoffed, “No skin or dick or body fluids touched your sheets except for your own, and if your homophobic ass can't stand watching two guys making out without stiffening, that's your problem.”

Crowley chuckled and drew Castiel closer by the hip, while Adam looked like he was about to throw up. Lucifer felt utterly out of place, too warm with Sam's presence beside him still to be sincerely angry with Castiel for abasing himself once again, yet also not cold enough to ignore them.

“Okay, what's going on?” Sam asked, trying to help. From the corner of his eye, Lucifer noticed a flash of red hair behind the stairs and the person who was actually supposed to intervene in these kind of situations just winked at him and vanished. Lucifer took a deep breath and crossed his arms.

“ I came home with Jo and we wanted to... you know...” Adam's cheeks flushed red. So there was  yet another annoying couple in this house. Great. “Anyway, when we came into our room, these two were devouring each other  _ in my bed _  and then they just stumbled downstairs without so much as an apology!”

Castiel snorted and threw his head back with shallow laughter, supporting himself on Crowley's shoulder. Not a good idea, because little Fergus didn't seem to be so stable himself and they crashed against the old reception no one had ever bothered to remove. There was careless laughter and British swearing.

“Holy shit, are you drunk?” Adam asked, taking Jo's hand and backing off with her.

“Oh, you're cute.” Castiel smirked at him from where he sat on the floor.

“Okay,” Sam interrupted, “how about I help you change your sheets later and we forget about it?” Lucifer watched the concerned expression on Sam's face and thought that this, right there, was the difference between them. Lucifer couldn't care less about other people's stupid fights about nothing. Sam did. He wanted to make it better.

Adam shrugged. He didn't seem convinced, so Sam added, “Then you don't have to worry about the state of your bed and we're all straight.”

“I would certainly doubt it,” Castiel mumbled and despite the generally tense situation, Lucifer couldn't stop himself from smiling at the pun.

“Whatever!” Adam rolled his eyes dramatically and dragged Jo with him upstairs.

Sam stayed where he was and looked after them, seemingly torn between following Adam and waiting in the kitchen with Lucifer until it was time to cook dinner.

“You coming?” Adam shouted from the stairs, and Sam looked at Lucifer questioningly.

Lucifer smiled and nodded, mouthing a silent  _ go _ , and Sam went after the two.

Castiel's eyes wandered from Sam back to Lucifer and he huffed a laugh.

“ Next time you lend him a book, try  _ Romeo and Juliet _ .”

Lucifer regarded the boy on the floor and chose to ignore the comment. He sighed, fighting his own stubbornness, and finally held out a hand for Castiel to pull himself up. It was a peace offering, and maybe more than that because when Castiel was standing, Lucifer held the hand out to Crowley.

The British boy stared at it doubtfully, as if he was afraid of being slapped once he got too close.

“Hurry up, I won't drop you,” Lucifer mumbled and Crowley finally took it and got to his feet safely with his help. Both boys smelled like pot and Fergus looked ever so pretentious with his suit and crooked tie.

“Why, thank you,” he mumbled back without looking at him. Lucifer snorted softly. He was a pathetic cockroach after all.

“Not giving me shit again, Lucifer?” Anyone other than Lucifer wouldn't have noticed the tad of seriousness in Castiel's voice, only slightly less sarcastic than usual.

Lucifer smirked. He really didn't care about anything right now, and if his only friend turned out to be a gay junkie who couldn't keep it in his pants, maybe he just had to deal with it.

“Well, you made Adam furious. It was quite a show.” They looked at each other in shared casual hatred of humanity and everything was close to normal again. Only it wasn't normal; it was better. “Besides, I'm having a really good day.”

“I see.” Castiel grinned knowingly and nodded towards the stairs. “We're going down, are you coming?”

Lucifer shook his head. “No, I'll be in the kitchen.”

“Aiight!”

The hug was sudden and hard, Castiel's torso crashing into his and almost sending them both flying to the floor once again. Lucifer hadn't been prepared for that kind of gesture and he figured a sober Castiel wouldn't have hugged him like this then and there, but he patted the other's back nonetheless.

“Good luck with Sam, you two are adorable,” Castiel more or less whispered into his ear and withdrew again, winking at him before he and Crowley went down the stairs.

Lucifer just stood there for a moment and smiled to himself in victory before he strolled into the kitchen and waited for Sam. To everyone's surprise, some of the vegetables actually made it into the pot after they tried and failed to form the Greek alphabet from peppers and cucumbers.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Okay, what's going on?”

Sam put the bottle of water back to his nightstand and looked expectantly at Bald. Adam and Mercury were still in the bathroom brushing their teeth, and he and Bald were both getting ready to go to sleep.

“Going on?”

Bald rolled his eyes. “You just spent over an hour washing dishes with the enemy. An hour. So I'm asking you, what's going on?”

What was going on was that they had talked about  _ Chess Story _ , one of the novellas Sam had read, and had been so much into the conversation that they hadn't paid attention to the running water anymore, which had resulted in a wet kitchen floor, a pissed Anna and two teenagers who couldn't care less that they had to clean up their mess. Sam was even a bit glad that it got them enough time for Lucifer to talk about his fascination with the psychological aspects of the book, and maybe they had kept talking even after everything was clean and dry again.

“He's not as bad as you think,” Sam sighed, tired of the war between his roommates and the other people they lived with.

Bald huffed an indignant laugh. “Do you need a reminder that he's been eavesdropping our conversations? Punched me in the face? Is generally being a creepy gay fucker?” He spat the last word right into Sam's face and Sam felt like he needed to wash the spit off. He took a deep breath.

“He stopped,” Sam argued, more for himself than to convince Bald. “He stopped as soon as I asked him to.”

“ Oh, did he?” Bald shook his head. “Doesn't change the fact that he's a faggot and he probably only wants in your pants. Look at his friend, he  _ made out _  with the other new guy in Adam's bed! I'm sure they teamed up to corrupt both of you.”

Sam didn't tell him that the idea of being intimate with Lucifer didn't put him off nearly as much as it did with Sarah, that maybe it was something he wanted, too. But he yawned and crawled into his bed as a clear sign that he didn't want to argue over it. “Maybe you don't get along with him,” he mumbled into his sheets, “but I do. Well, I do now.”

There was silence for a whole minute and despite how much he had enjoyed the day, Sam was pretty exhausted and was already drifting off to sleep when Bald finally said, “Kali and I are helping Anna out tomorrow.”

He fell asleep before he could get angry with Bald, and before Adam and Curee came back from the bathroom, and woke up in the middle of the night from a confusing dream.

They hadn't been with Abaddon in the dream. He had lived with Dean and John in a small but permanent home, without the moving around and the crimes, and Lucifer had been his neighbor for a long time, and he had come over to eat dinner with them, dinner that John had cooked. And they had smiled and laughed together, and talked about school and work and a green duck that Sam had wanted to adopt for some reason.

Sam had another argument to keep the duck on his lips when he awoke, but it died once he realized where he was. Not at a dinner table, not with his family or Lucifer, and certainly not living such a normal, domestic life.

Dean's voice still rang in his head when he woke up.  _ 'I'm so happy for you, Sammy.' _

It was a good dream. It was too good.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Lucifer felt different when he woke up.

At first he couldn't remember why. Then the memories of the day before came back to him and he smiled with his eyes still closed. When he turned to his side and opened them, Castiel was still sleeping in his bed.

The sun hadn't risen yet but he got up nonetheless and took a shower although the water was cold as ice. It burned on his skin and shook him fully awake, proving that it had not been a dream. Yesterday, everything had changed. He didn't need to keep his distance to Sam anymore; he couldn't possibly want that anymore. Not if it had been only half as fulfilling to him as it had been to Lucifer.

And Castiel was back, too. Maybe not under the conditions Lucifer would have liked, but he could try to accept his lifestyle. If only Castiel weren't so keen on displaying his sexual relationship with his drug dealer...

But he had to get over that, too. Now that Sam was in close proximity, he had to think about what he wanted with him. He knew that his interest in Sam was romantic, but was it sexual? He wanted to be as close as possible to him. He had to get over it.

When he came out of the bathroom, he ran into Alastair. His good mood remained with him when the other boy stopped him from going back to his room.

“Lucifer,” he mumbled, rolling his tongue, “I think we should have a chat. We barely talk.”

Lucifer stopped and looked him over. “I barely talk to any of you.”

“Oh, but there are some people.” He nodded towards his and Castiel's room, then looked back to him. “Do you know what your sweet roommate has been up to?”

“I am aware, yes. It's none of your business.” It was enough that Lucifer had to deal directly with Castiel, he wanted to stay out of other people's opinions on it – as long as they stayed out of his own business, that was.

“It is when his gay mouth is on my roommate's most of the time. If you're all into this, maybe you should take the two of them into your room, together with your new boy toy.”

“Watch your mouth,” Lucifer growled, stepping closer to him. “Sam is not like them, and our relationship is our affair only. So is Castiel's and Crowley's.” He stared him down, a threatening tone in his voice. “Now, is there anything else you want to waste my time with?” The good feeling from before was still there, and Lucifer was surprised himself that he still managed to act this way when he was rather inspired to be gentle and calm. But the thought of Sam was adding fuel to his fire, the need to protect even stronger now than it had been during his fist fight with Baldur.

Alastair smiled crookedly. “Not really. This is better already. Just so you know...” He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “Just because you've been here the longest and you're Abaddon's favorite doesn't mean we still have faith in you when you become all soft and weak, doing a woman's work for one of  _ them _ .”

Lucifer shrugged. “Then you're just like Baldur and the others. I don't need your approval.” He turned away and back to his room.

“Just keep it in mind. Some of us do a lot for you even as we're talking, Lucifer.”

He didn't respond. If the kids wanted to play, it was mostly of their own will, after all. Instead, he left his anger behind and returned to his good mood, getting ready for school.

  
  


* * *

  
  


There definitely was a certain tension in the room the next morning. Sam didn't talk a lot with Bald and Adam but when he did, it was awkward small talk and they weren't invested in the conversation. That continued at their breakfast table with Anna being the only one who treated him normally, or perhaps even a bit gentler than usual.

“Don't worry,” she whispered on their way to school, “they'll get over it eventually.”

Sam nodded, but he thought to himself that maybe he didn't want to be at their mercy, silently pleading to be accepted again. He didn't need that. Not anymore.

But still, he found himself feeling lonely and left out once he slowed down a bit to separate himself from the group. No one except for Anna even seemed to notice that he was gone. But it beat pretending to be one of them, so he walked slowly on his own, watching his feet hit the asphalt and crunch a dry leaf from time to time.

“Hey, Sam.”

Sam jumped in surprise, tripped over the cub and would have fallen if someone hadn't caught him. He stared up into the person's face and met light blue eyes.

“Lucifer!” Sam let out a relieved breath, holding onto him.

“Careful...” Lucifer helped him to get to his feet again and smiled apologetically. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Sam huffed a laugh and let go of Lucifer's arms, maybe just a few seconds later than he could have. “You never  _ do _ ,” he said, thinking back to the times when Lucifer hadn't understood why stalking someone could  possibly  scare them.

“Okay, I'm sorry.” He stepped a bit ahead of Sam, and Sam followed him, walking beside him.

“It's okay.” Sam smiled at him and eyed his appearance, the backpack and the pen behind his ear. “Wait, are you going to school?”

Lucifer's lips curled into a grin. “So it would seem.”

“Obviously,” Sam laughed. “Sorry, I just never saw you in school except for that one day...”

“You mean that one day where I had an unnecessary discussion with a teacher before I took a drugged Castiel home?”

“Uh, yeah, that.” He ran a hand through his hair, hoping not to upset Lucifer with the memory. But the other boy chuckled.

“That was one of the few times I stayed a bit longer. I do come around from time to time, but mostly to do tests or exams, presentations, et cetera.”

They turned around a corner and passed the middle school. Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the children playing on the streets. The sounds of them shouting and laughing filled the air and melted into the singing of the birds and the rushing of a fresh breeze. It was so picture-perfect that Sam was convinced he would see exactly this scene in his mind if he closed his eyes and just listened. The children's voices were already fading again when Sam asked the question they both knew was coming.

“Why aren't you going to school regularly?”

Lucifer looked at him with an unreadable expression. “Can't you guess?”

Sam nodded. “I guess it doesn't fit your concept. But you're incredibly smart, more intelligent than most teenagers. Isn't that wasted potential?”

“Am I?” Lucifer smiled at the compliment, and then said, “I don't consider it wasted. I can use my knowledge when talking to people I like. It would be a waste to use it on the people I'm forced to work with.”

“I see...” Their eyes met for a moment before Sam realized they were already standing at the gate. He pointed towards the building. “So, do you wanna go in, or would you rather not talk to the dumb peasants in there?” He grinned.

Lucifer smiled and stepped a bit closer to Sam. “What's your first class?”

Sam sighed. “Math.” He saw the look in Lucifer's eyes and shook his head. “No, I need to go.”

“Why?” Lucifer frowned. “You're way above their level and mathematics don't serve any purpose, anyway.” Sam liked the way Lucifer moved his lips when he spoke. And he liked how his eyelids hung just a bit lower than average, giving him an expression of calm and ease.

To be honest, Sam was tempted to just skip school and spend the day with Lucifer, but then he remembered his goal. He wanted to get into Stanford, that was what this was all about.

“Maybe you're right,” he said with a smile on his face, “but maybe I want to go.” He took a step backwards into the direction of the school, still facing Lucifer. “Sorry, not now. But my Biology teacher is ill, so maybe later, in fourth period?” He gave him a smile, and Lucifer returned it.

“Whenever you please.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded and waved his goodbye. “See you later, Luce!”

And with that, he went off to his first lesson, and it was as boring as suspected. In his History class, Castiel asked about him and Lucifer and Sam was happy to answer his questions.

“So his Nietzsche talk has finally changed your opinion on him?” Castiel smirked, tapping his pen on the table.

Sam huffed a laugh. “More or less, yes.” He couldn't really explain when and why exactly his opinion on Lucifer had changed, but he knew it had started even before he had read the book. Once he hadn't stalked him anymore, Sam had been able to acknowledge the positive things about him. “I think at some point I was just able to look behind his facade of the scary guy no one would want to mess with.”

Castiel snorted a laugh. “Yeah, most of that is just show. Don't be fooled though, he does have some serious anger issues. His hate is real.”

“I figured.” Sam hadn't forgotten about some of the darker lines in Lucifer's commentary.

_ I'm having a hard time believing that anything good can come out of this species. _

“Maybe,” Sam said thoughtfully, fiddling with his nails, “Maybe he just... needs someone to prove him wrong. To show him not everything in this world is bad.”

“Right.” Cas nodded. “Good luck with that.”

Sam couldn't answer him because now they had to talk about the civil war... again. When the lesson was almost over, the teacher asked them to form groups for a project over the next two weeks. Sam turned in his seat and asked Sarah, but she only scoffed a “No, thanks.” and paired up with another guy Sam didn't know.

That left Castiel and him with the other two people no one ever talked to. It wasn't like Sam didn't like Chuck and Risa, they were okay, but Sarah's reaction had been a bit harsh. He wondered if she really was so angry with him for not kissing her, but only for a second, then the school bell rang and he quickly said goodbye to Castiel to go see Lucifer.

He went directly to the school's gate, because that was where they parted, and there he would find him again. And of course, he was standing just outside the campus, a tiny smile on his face as he watched Sam approach him.

“So,” he asked, “were your math lessons enlightening?”

“Not exactly,” Sam laughed. “Roman was as much of a dick as he always is.”

Lucifer groaned. “He's your math teacher, too? How could you choose him over me, Sammy? I'm offended.” The complete seriousness with which he spoke only added to it and Sam had to laugh.

“I definitely wouldn't, but good grades are my key to being a lawyer one day.” Lucifer was the first one he told about this, and somehow talking about it made it feel more real.

“A lawyer?” Lucifer asked, starting to walk away from the building. Sam went with him. Neither of them knew where they were going, just away from any students and teachers. “All courts should be afraid of your flawless argumentation.”

Sam chuckled. “Well, that's why I like philosophy. It's all about defending your point. But that's not the only reason why I want to do it.”

“Is it about your family?” It was rather a statement than a question, like Lucifer already knew. Maybe he had guessed from their earlier conversations about distancing yourself from what was expected of you and instead following your own instincts and desires.

“Yes,” Sam confirmed, and somehow he was okay with Lucifer knowing, even if nobody else could. “It's even a bit more complicated than that. Complicated and...” He looked around, eyes wandering over the garbage men on the street, the mother sitting on a brick wall with her baby and the old man walking towards them with his dog.

“We can go somewhere more private if you want,” Lucifer suggested, following Sam's gaze.

Sam checked his watch. How was almost half of his free period already over?

“I'm sorry, I can't. I still have PE in the afternoon.”

“PE?” Lucifer eyed him up and down thoughtfully. “I think you're fit enough.”

Sam laughed and felt his face heat up a little. “You know that's not the problem.”

Lucifer smiled. “They won't give you an F just for missing one lesson. Trust me, I know.”

“You sure do.” He sighed, but knew he had already made his decision. PE really wasn't that important compared to other subjects, and it was mostly the school's fault with its social interactions and long hallways that he didn't have enough time.

“Okay,” Sam finally sighed. “Where do you want to go?”

  
  


* * *

  
  


He hadn't been at the glade in a long time. It reminded him too much of his father, and there had been a moment from which on Lucifer just hadn't wanted to think about him anymore. But now he could assign a new meaning to the place. Because now Sam was with him.

“Wow,” Sam breathed, blinking into the sun shining through the trees surrounding them. “This is beautiful.”

Lucifer smiled to himself and lay down in the grass, looking up at the sky where a few feathery clouds were slowly passing by. “Isn't it?”

Sam followed suit, lying down next to Lucifer, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the singing of birds, the chirping of insects, the warm feeling of the sunlight hitting their skin and the even warmer feeling of intimate togetherness. It was nothing like anything Lucifer had experienced here before and he thought about moving just a bit closer to physically feel Sam's body close to his. But he didn't.

“This is wonderful,” Sam finally said, turning his head to look at Lucifer. “Would you believe me if I said I've never seen this before?” He huffed a quick smile, but it faltered when he continued. “My dad took us deep into forests sometimes... but never in the light of day.”

Lucifer frowned, trying to grip the meaning behind what Sam had said. The images that came to his mind though must just have been him projecting, and he quickly got rid of them.

“What did you do in the forest at night?”

There was a longer pause and Lucifer studied Sam's face, the frown on it and the distant look in his eyes that meant his mind was somewhere else, going through whatever memories it was haunted by.

“Bury things.”

It was obvious what these  _ things  _ implied. And when he saw the ice-cold stare of the boy lying next to him, Lucifer decided not to ask any more questions about their trips to the forest. Instead, he asked softly, “For how long has he done that to you?”

Sam snorted bitterly. “I don't remember it ever being any different until I ran away a few weeks ago. Dean does, though. If it weren't for him, I'd be an emotional wreck. I mean...” He huffed a laugh. “More than I already am anyway.”

Lucifer watched as Sam ran his hand through the grass, his fingertips touching Lucifer's leg lightly every time he came to the far left. Then he stopped and sighed.

“ I wish he wasn't so stubbornly convinced that what our dad is doing is right. He never...  _ did _  anything himself, but the thought of not following John’s orders never crosses his mind. I couldn't even say goodbye... He would have  have done anything to  stop me from leaving at all.”

His voice broke on the last word and he grimaced, his lips pressing together in the sad attempt of a careless smile. And Lucifer could relate, had asked himself the same questions.

_ Why aren't you on my side? Why are you so obsessed with him? Can't you see I'm right? _

Lucifer rolled to his side, leaning his head on his bent elbow. “I had a brother once, too. Half-brother, actually.”

Sam turned his head again, looking at him with interest. “Michael?”

For a moment Lucifer was confused as to Sam's knowledge of him, but then he remembered his mentions of him in the commentary. “Yes. You've read about him.”

“I have.” He frowned. “Did he really abandon you?”

Lucifer laughed humorlessly. “Oh no, he didn't abandon me. He threw me out. Out of his family, out of his life.” Technically, it had been his mother, but Lucifer had never even thought about the strange woman again. He still remembered Michael's face, though. Michael's cold face as he was screaming and shouting for him, crying for help and desperate for any sign that his brother still cared about him.

“Hey, are you okay?” A soft hand closed around his fist, and Lucifer realized he had clenched it again. He relaxed his muscles, but didn't pull away. This was strange. Coming from Sam, the touch actually soothed him, rather than freaking him out even more.

“Yes.” He looked Sam in the eye, and the concerned expression on his face wiped away any last trace of the anger he had felt. “But maybe we are better off without our brothers.”

“I don't know.” Sam was watching their hands, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of Lucifer's hand. “Dean would never have left me. He's good at heart, he just...” Sam shook his head helplessly. “He was four when our mother was murdered by a maniac in a yellow overall. He set the house on fire, nearly killed us all, and then disappeared. My father and my brother are still set on finding the guy, even after all these years. They spend their lives pretending to make the world a better place with their vigilantism, when really they just want revenge for themselves.”

So now Lucifer knew what kind of business Sam's father was in, and he was surprised that Sam had still turned out to be such a beautiful person with a life as dirty as that. But maybe, that was just what it took.

“And you don't? Want revenge?” Lucifer asked because he knew that if this had happened to him, he would seek revenge, too. After all, he took revenge on humanity whenever he had the opportunity.

Sam shook his head. “I can't even remember her. And I don't see the point in... in killing people. I want to do right.”

“I see.” Lucifer slowly turned his hand under Sam's until they were palm to palm and interlocked them. Sam glanced down and then quickly up to Lucifer again. And now that he was so close and the sun was shining directly into his eyes, Lucifer knew what he had been missing in the darkness of their home. The green speckles in Sam's irises were only visible in sunlight. Dark areas devoured them and left only a clear surface of hazel-brown, when there was a whole spectrum of colors in his eyes.

Just when a content smile spread across Lucifer's face, Sam caught sight of something above Lucifer's head. “Look, Luce,” he grinned, “someone wants your attention.”

Lucifer reluctantly looked away from Sam and up to the sky. There was a butterfly just inches away from his face. And not just any butterfly. He frowned and murmured, “ _ Limenitis arthemis...” _

“Sorry?” There was a laugh in his voice, no irritation, but Lucifer's head spun back to him immediately.

Instead of explaining, he looked Sam dead in the eye and after a moment said matter-of-factly, “You like it. You think its colors are beautiful. It looks cool.”

Sam's mouth opened just a bit as if to say something, then closed again. His eyebrows were knitted together in confusion while he stared at the ground.

“Do you remember?” Lucifer asked softly, ignoring the fluttering above him that he had grown to hate. It took a moment, but Sam finally licked his lips and looked up at Lucifer again.

“We really did meet before?”

Lucifer's lips curled up into a soft smile. “We did.”

“Wow.” Sam blinked, watching the butterfly fluttering around his head. Lucifer resisted the urge to squash it. “It took some déjà vu for me to remember.”

“At least you finally do remember and don't call me crazy anymore.”

“Yeah... Sorry.” Sam squeezed his hand just a bit and Lucifer felt something glow in his stomach. “I just met so many people in my childhood, we never settled down.”

“Well...” Lucifer pursed his lips, thinking back to that day like he had done so often. “I didn't meet a lot of people my age until I was in the foster system. And you were the only one who didn't despise me from the moment they saw me.”

He moved closer now, letting go of Sam's hand in favor of closing the space between them so he was only just able to look into Sam's eyes without crossing his own. “Do you understand now?” he murmured, staring just a little bit down at Sam from where he was propped up on his elbow. “Why I wanted you from the moment I saw you again?”

Sam only stared back at him with parted lips and slightly widened eyes. Breathing suddenly seemed like a very difficult thing to do, the air refused to pass his lips as smoothly as it usually did, and Lucifer was just about to withdraw from him to get some control over his body when Sam's hand moved up his back and towards his neck, and Sam pulled Lucifer closer and crushed their mouths together.

The air got stuck in Lucifer's lungs and as an intuitive reaction, he flinched away sharply and squinted his eyes shut in fear of what was to come now. But he wouldn't have had to. There were no images, no noises, nothing unpleasant in his head. Only Sam, and the touch of his lips, and Lucifer slowly relaxed and opened his eyes again.

Sam was staring at him in shock, shaking his head. “I- I'm sorry, Luce, I wasn't... I just thought that-”

Lucifer shook his head, closed his eyes again and silenced him with another kiss, careful but not too soft. He cupped his face with his free hand and Sam responded, pressing his lips against Lucifer's until they both needed oxygen.

Their lips parted and Lucifer left his eyes closed for a moment longer, fully realizing what had just happened. Sam had kissed him. Sam wanted him. They could be together. His plan had worked.

He opened his eyes and looked into Sam's face. His lips were still parted and shining but his eyes were now affectionate and sparkling with the promise of something new starting there and then.

Lucifer pushed himself fully up on his elbow and above Sam, his legs resting between Sam's.

“You're mine,” he muttered into Sam's ear, causing him to moan softly. “And... I'm yours.” It felt like a strange thing to say after having craved independence for so long, but with Sam, he didn't want independence.

He placed a light kiss on his chin before he kissed his mouth again, and this time it was more than just their lips pressing together, instead they were gliding over each other in quick, forceful movements with their mouths opening and closing, letting out huffed breaths in between.

Lucifer's heart was racing against his chest in a rhythm with Sam's, and it felt like their chests could easily melt together so they could share one heart, one body. He groaned softly because this was nothing like the kisses he had had before. It wasn't just a physical interaction. Not an unwanted necessity. This was Sam, and Lucifer ran both of his hands through his long hair and tugged at it, not sure what else to do with the intensity of their connection, the force that wanted to be let out, and he could never be close enough to Sam no matter how much he pressed into him, how much their sliding lips were matching, because they needed to become one, soul and body.

In the end, they lay next to each other again. Only this time their lips were red and wet, their hair was a mess and Lucifer had an arm around Sam.

  
  


 


	6. Chapter 6

 

_In the following days and weeks, the old hotel became a more dangerous place than it had been in a while. The silent agreement between the children to stay out of each other's lives was voided and pranks were played, evil pranks. They manipulated each other, achieving only that no one knew whom they could trust anymore, and bonds of friendship were destroyed in the process._

_The red-haired lady sat in her office and smiled, satisfied with watching it all happen and frowned upon only by her husband, and she was indifferent to that by now. This was just what she needed, this was what kept her going. Not the money, but the thrill._

_There was a new conflict, a conflict built around one boy who had brought chaos to the once settled place;_ _and now all of her chessmen were going mad, afraid of the white knight that had simply fought its way through to the black king and made peace_ _._

 

Sam sighed. “So what, are you throwing me out?”

They were all gathered in their room, the boys plus Jo, Kali and Anna, the last of which looked more than uncomfortable, and everyone's eyes were on him.

“No,” Bald clarified, “we're not. The exact opposite, Sam, we're asking you to stay by our side.”

“Stay by your side for what?” It was ridiculous. Sam really didn't know why everyone made such a big deal out of this. It was like a high school cliché, only crazier. They were actually using military vocabulary sometimes, talking about 'alleys' and 'enemies', 'recruiting', 'attacks' and even the 'front', however the hell the hallway had become a battlefield. Sam at least didn't see any bombs being fired, so for now the whole thing just seemed like a big, fat overreaction.

“Today,” Jo growled, “when I woke up, I was buried in doll parts.”

Sam suppressed a giggle and shook his head instead. “I'm sorry about that, but what does this have to do with me?”

“You're hanging with Lucifer!” Bald's voice was almost hysteric, like it was the most obvious thing that spending time with Lucifer meant betraying everybody else.

“Yeah.” Sam rolled his eyes impatiently. “We've had this conversation. And you know what? I'll go hang out with him again now, 'cause you're not being very welcoming right now.” He stood up, ignoring the offended looks on their faces.

“You're going to see what he's like soon enough.” Like Bald had any idea what Lucifer was like. Sam snorted and left the room without another word.

He didn't even know what all the fuss was about. So far, the only thing he saw was everyone  _around them_  going crazy, but Lucifer was with Sam most of the time, and he never actively did anything. And Castiel's only contribution to the cold war was that he and Crowley were ever so careless about when and where they made out. This Saturday morning, Adam had wanted to take a shower and had instead come back five minutes later in shock, not specifying what exactly he had walked in on.

But other than that, it was mostly the others. And even though Sam felt that maybe it should bother him, and that maybe he should try to contribute to everyone's peace, it didn't seem like a pressing issue. It would pass, just like every fight between a group of teenagers did. And in relation to his conversations with Lucifer, the 'war' looked even more childish. He would have enough time to be righteous once he went to law school.

He knocked on the door and waited for the approving humming before he opened it. A cloud of smoke hit him; Castiel was lying on his bed, smoking something that, judging from the smell, clearly wasn't just a cigarette. Opposite of him, Lucifer looked up from the book he'd been reading. His mouth quirked up.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam shoved his annoyance aside and smiled brightly, taking the two steps towards him and placing a light kiss on his cheek. “Hey, Luce.”

He turned around to look at Castiel. “Hi, Cas. Umm, can I...”

Cas waved him off. “Sure, you two lovebirds go be alone somewhere, I don't need to watch you.”

“Look who's talking,” Lucifer mumbled as he stood up and shot a glare at his roommate, but the corners of his mouth were still upturned. Then he put a hand on Sam's shoulder and led him out of the room, mumbling a “See you later” at Castiel.

They went down the stairs and out the back door together quietly, but as soon as they were outside, Sam shoved Lucifer up against the wall and kissed him. It was like he couldn't stop pressing his lips against Lucifer's ever since they had first touched, and it always sent a shocks of electricity through his body.

“Hey, Sam...” Sam opened his eyes to see the surprised grin on Lucifer's face. “Passionate today, are we?”

Sam huffed a laugh. “I always am when I'm with you.”

Lucifer smiled but pushed him away gently, sliding down the wall and dragging Sam with him. “You seemed upset when you came in. Did something happen?”

Sam sighed and slid further down, resting his head on Lucifer's thigh. He looked up at him and started fiddling with one of his open shirt buttons. “Not really. Just my roommates.”

“What did they do?” Lucifer absently ran his fingers through Sam's hair, and Sam closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Lucifer's warm hand brushed across his cheeks and neck, and it felt so nice and fond that he forgot for a moment he had been asked a question.

“Sam?”

“Mmh...” He reluctantly opened his eyes again and looked into Lucifer's amused face.

“Not that I don't like watching you rub your cheek against my hand... but I don't like other people upsetting you.”

Sam shrugged. “Same arguments they've been throwing at me for days. I shouldn't hang out with you, you're a dick, blah blah blah.” He sat up on Lucifer's lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Bullshit.”

And when he saw the fond smile on Lucifer's face, he really couldn't remember why he had originally avoided him. They looked into each other's eyes for some time, until Sam huffed a nervous laugh and Lucifer pulled him closer for a kiss.

“Do they know?” he murmured against Sam's lips. Sam smiled.

“I don't think so.”

“Would you mind if they did?”

Instead of answering right away, Sam silenced him with another kiss, this time more to avoid the question than anything else. He wasn't sure about it. If things were complicated now, what would they be like if they knew they were not only seeing each other as friends? But as their lips touched and it once again felt like a hole inside of him was filled, Sam knew he wouldn't mind anyone seeing them like this. He wouldn't mind anyone knowing because even if they couldn't deal with it and would end up burning the place down, he'd still have Lucifer. And that would be enough.

But he didn't tell him as much. Instead, he whispered into the kiss, “Would you?”

Lucifer chuckled. Sam felt the vibration against his lips, then at his cheek as Lucifer rubbed their skin together, kissing his way up to Sam's ear.

“The world could be collapsing around us and I wouldn't care.”

Sam smiled widely over Lucifer's shoulder and ran his hand through his short hair. “Wrong.” He could practically feel Lucifer raising his eyebrows and continued just before he could protest. “You'd be the one bringing it down. With me, of course.”

“Hmm... Probably.”

They kissed again and Sam thought that it was surely okay for him to find the idea of the two of them watching everything turning to ashes appealing, romantic even. It wasn't something they would put to practice, right? It was just in their heads, and in reality, they would try and get along with everybody. At least that was what they should do. They really should...

“Hey...” Sam pulled away, looking at Lucifer and his red lips. He didn't want to destroy the moment, but his conscience was taking over him. “Before someone will get hurt, we should probably do something about this... war going on.”

“Why?” Lucifer furrowed his brows like he couldn't understand what Sam was saying.

“Why?” Sam huffed a laugh. “Because people getting hurt is a bad thing, Luce.”

Lucifer made a disapproving grunting noise, stroking Sam's back with his thumbs absently. “Not sure I agree with you on that.” He wasn't looking at him anymore, but staring at a point over Sam's shoulder instead.

“No, Luce... Lucifer.” Sam tilted his chin up and their eyes interlocked. “I'm 'people', too. You wouldn't want me to get hurt, would you?”

He would have expected Lucifer to be offended, maybe even angry, but the genuinely hurt expression on Lucifer's face hit him with surprise. “How could you even say such a thing?” Lucifer cupped Sam's face with his hands, then moved them down his neck, his arms and his torso, murmuring, “You're perfect, inside and out.”

A comfortable warmth spread through Sam's body from where Lucifer touched him. He smiled and kissed him again, and it was the softest kiss they had shared, warm and sweet and loving. He cherished it for a moment, but when he pulled back, he tried again.

“See? Not all bad.” His lips curled up in a hopeful smile. “Think about it. They listen to you. Maybe you could... I don't know, talk to them?”

Silence. For a brief moment, Sam regretted saying anything at all. Maybe asking Lucifer to manipulate his friends – or whatever they were to him – wasn't such a good idea in the first place. But then Lucifer sighed and looked into Sam's eyes, seemingly defeated. “The things I do for you...”

Sam's eyes lit up, and he pressed another kiss to Lucifer's lips.

“I love you!”

He hadn't meant to say that. It had just kind of slipped out. “Uh...” He really didn't know what to say  _now_. 'I'm sorry' didn't seem right. Because he wasn't. It had just been a surprise for both of them.

Once Lucifer had recovered, he looked Sam straight in the eye and said with full sincerity, “I love you, too.”

They looked at each other in silent happiness for a long moment before Lucifer pulled Sam in for a much more longing kiss, all tongues and teeth, and Sam only pulled away when he felt himself heat up much more than was appropriate for the location. Although he found himself wishing he could go further, wanting to have all of Lucifer, but this wasn't the time and place.

Instead, he sat beside him again, his head leaning on his shoulder while he pulled at the grass on the ground.

“Are you going to school next week?”

“Don't push it, Sam.”

“Okay...”

  


* * *

  


“Tell me again why I'm coming with you?”

Lucifer went down the stairs to the basement, looking over his shoulder at Sam. “Because you're the only reason I'm doing this at all.”

“Right.”

He looked so uncomfortable, Lucifer would have liked to just spare him the whole thing. But the truth of it was, he couldn't do this without Sam. He _wouldn't_  do this if it wasn't for him. And even with Sam by his side, Lucifer was still asking himself why the hell he had agreed to this. He had never given orders this huge. More than that, he had never asked the others to be nice. How was he supposed to do that?

It was too late to think about it now anyway because there he was, standing in the middle of the room with Sam next to him, all eyes on them.

“Look who's come to the party,” Alastair mumbled in his usual tone, his eyes slowly wandering from Lucifer to Sam.

Not everyone was there on this Sunday evening. Castiel and Crowley were off somewhere like they usually were, and Lilith wasn't there either. But Alastair, Ruby, Azazel, Meg and Bela were. And that was enough for now.

“Lucifer!” Meg smiled brightly. “And Sam, finally.” She winked at him, and if Lucifer didn't know she was into Bela, he would have had to talk to her about how it was unacceptable that she was flirting with Sam.

Lucifer stepped closer to the group, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed while everyone else remained in a sitting position, except for Sam, who followed him hesitantly. Sam's presence soothed him, and although he was not exactly speaking in his name, it was easier for him to say what needed to be said.

“I want you to stop messing with the others.”

There was some silence, then a snort from Alastair, and finally Azazel speaking up with a short and simple, “Why?”

“Because it's childish and stupid and y'all need to grow up eventually,” Lucifer said matter-of-factly.

“Finally someone with some sense!” Bela cheered, her eyes lighting up in fake enthusiasm while her mouth remained a strict line. She was the only one cheering, but Lucifer didn't mind. His job was done, and they would either follow his instructions or they wouldn't. So he turned to leave, but to everyone's surprise, Sam spoke up before he had even taken the first step.

“That's not the only reason,” Sam said, and Lucifer was silently pleading with him to shut his mouth. Yes, he couldn't have done this without him, but a discussion would get them nowhere, especially not if Sam was trying to instill a sense of morality into their heads.

But there was no stopping him now, because Sam had already cleared his throat and continued.

“You surely agree with me that this is harming you as much as it is harming Bald and his friends. Of course you will always try to make it worse for them, but they will retaliate. Eventually, someone will get injured and you never know who it's gonna be.”

 _Oh Sammy,_  Lucifer thought,  _don't try that on them. No one here cares about taking a few hits if it means taking your enemy down with you. You're only going to make this difficult._

“Besides,” he went on, glancing at Lucifer.  _Stop, Sam. Stop._  Sam didn't. “Besides, you have the advantage here.”

He took a step forward, standing slightly in front of Lucifer now. “I've been sharing a room with Bald and Adam ever since I moved here. And one of the reasons why their conversations are so boring is that they're talking about you more often than not. Some more than others...” He forced a smile in Lucifer's direction. Lucifer just stared at him.

“... But all of you, really. And not just because they dislike you.” There was something like a tiny dark sparkle in Sam's eyes. Lucifer watched as it seemed to overtake Sam as he spoke, sending a snarky smirk to his lips and somehow changing his posture to a more confident one. He didn't look awkward anymore, not at all. He stood tall and steady, and Lucifer found it incredibly appealing.

“They're jealous.” Sam spat out the words, his mouth and nose twisted for a second in a brutish way, like a predator hissing at his prey. A dark, adoring smile spread over Lucifer's face. “They're hyper aware of all of your privileges. You've got this...” Sam threw his arms open and his head back just a bit, gesturing at the huge basement. “They've only got their rooms to hang out in, or they need to go out. Abaddon even buys you alcohol. They don't know why, they don't think you deserve it at all, and they're  _pissed_.”

Sam chuckled full of schadenfreude, and some of his audience, Lucifer noticed, grinned, too. “You don't need to do anything to piss them off. Just living your lives and having fun down here while they're rotting in their rooms upstairs is already enough to drive them mad. You're superior. Why make the effort?”

There was a pregnant silence after Sam was finished. Despite that everyone was watching him, Lucifer had to draw Sam closer so their hips were touching. He needed to claim him, or else someone would try to take him away from him for sure.

“Fuck, you're hot,” Lucifer murmured into Sam's ear for no one else to hear, and to his dismay, some of that pure forcefulness faded at that, replaced with a faint blush on Sam's cheeks.

Ruby was the first one to speak up. “I think... he's got a point.” She nodded, and several others joined in. “Maybe the biggest possible 'fuck you' is to just not care about them at all.”

Most of them actually seemed convinced, even Azazel, who had been enjoying playing pranks more than any of them. Everyone but Alastair. He coughed loudly. Lucifer subconsciously put his arm fully around Sam's waist, holding him protectively in front of him.

“And what if that's all bullshit and the only reason they want us to stop is so they can live safely in their gay paradise? “

“Well, then I suggest you stop being a homophobic arsehole.”

“Gay paradise? We missed anything?”

No one had heard heard Crowley and Castiel coming, but here they were. And from the look Crowley gave him, Lucifer knew this had been a _Thanks-for-letting-me-fuck-your-best-friend-without-complaining_ -gesture. He didn't bother to force a smile but was still glad for the distraction because their arrival had provoked a noisy debate, and now that everyone was discussing recent events, he could easily drag Sam out of there with him without anyone complaining.

“Shit, Sam.”

Lucifer pushed him up against the wall as soon as the door had closed behind them. Sam's lips were invitingly open and so he pushed his tongue inside, silencing Sam's muffled questioning noises, and twisting his tongue around Sam's.

They made out for some time, Lucifer's body pressing into Sam's, and when he finally pulled back, Sam let out an exhausted breath.

“What was that?” A smile played around his lips, and Lucifer's mouth quirked up, too.

“What was  _ _that__?” he echoed, nodding towards the door.

Sam blushed. “That was... I don't know, I was trying to convince them?”

“Oh, you did. I'm impressed.” He let go of him and chuckled.

Taking a step back, he looked Sam up and down slowly. “You really are extraordinary,” he mumbled, tracing the slight muscles on his chest with a finger and smiling when Sam shivered under it. He looked back up at him.

“I may even consider going to school for a day or two, just to watch you work towards your lawyer career.”

  


* * *

  


Of course, Lucifer didn't _really_ go to school. Except for one test, the only thing he did was falling into a routine of walking Sam to school every day, and then he either watched Sam's lessons from outside the window, or they split up, and Lucifer went to the library instead, where they met back up and usually stayed for another hour or two once Sam's classes were over.

The promise of being with Lucifer later made it hard to concentrate on what Sam was supposed to learn, he had to admit. It wasn't like his grades got much worse, but some of his teachers were definitely disappointed. He had been very present in discussions before, and now he mostly sat there, thinking of seeing Lucifer, talking to him, kissing him, reading something to him or having read something in return. And it hit Sam midweek that Stanford wasn't his only wish for the future anymore. He wanted Lucifer to go with him.

It wasn't exactly impossible, the guy was smart. He just had to go to school. Sam would have to make him. And more than that, he had to concentrate on school again, too. By the end of the week, he swore to himself to be more present in class because when he was being honest with himself, he had gotten to a point where he mostly waited for classes to be over.

That Friday after their last lesson, right at the moment when a wave of relief and joy hit Sam, Castiel turned to him.

“Hey, we're having a party tonight. I demand you'll be there.”

Sam thought about it, then shrugged. “Depends.” He would have to ask Lucifer. Aside from his awkward speech last weekend, he hadn't spent much time in the basement and to be honest, some of the people down there seemed a bit fishy. But if Lucifer wanted some variety instead of spending most of their time together between either living or dead trees, why not?

Cas grinned knowingly. “Okay, just consider yourself and everyone else invited.” He turned around, speaking to Sarah, who was eyeing both of them and had obviously been listening to their conversation. “You can come, too.”

She acted like she had been packing up her stuff all along and asked, “Will  _ _he_ _ be there?”

“Oh, __he__.” Castiel raised his eyebrows and nodded enthusiastically. “He will definitely be there.”

It wasn't a nice thing to do, hitting people with such irony in response to a genuine question, but he had a point and Sam couldn't stop the chuckling coming out of his mouth.

“You know what? Nevermind.” Sarah rolled her eyes and stormed out.

Sam looked after her with slightly furrowed brows. “Do you think she was talking about Lucifer?”

Cas shrugged. “Probably. You're all over him now.”

Maybe he should have been worried. But he wasn't. Instead, he smiled to himself, thinking that although Sarah was a nice girl, he didn't really need anyone else now that he had Lucifer, and Lucifer had him.

“Eh, sorry?”

They both looked up at the boy suddenly standing in front of them. He looked miserable, a nervous and almost pleading expression on his face.

“Uh, yeah?” Sam prompted, and Cas snorted.

“We were just wondering... Ehhh...” Chuck looked over his shoulder, apparently having expected someone there. There was no one, just a few students getting ready to leave and minding their own business. Chuck huffed a nervous laugh, correcting himself. “ _I_  was wondering, about our history project. I mean...”

“Oh, shit,” Sam swore, his expression turning to an apologetic one. “Sorry, I totally forgot about that.” If he wanted to work on his attitude, finishing projects in time would have been a good place to start, but no.

Chuck forced a smile and continued, “Yeah... So, we haven't done anything yet and since our presentation is on Monday...”

“We'll all be staying here for the next few hours and get it done,” Risa finished for him, suddenly behind him. Her determination was the exact opposite of Chuck's insecurity and Sam felt sorry for the guy, who looked away, mumbling, “Yeah... That...”

Cas groaned. “Okay, but we need to hurry up.”

And they did. To everyone's surprise, Castiel worked the hardest. It was like his carefree attitude was suddenly gone and he went into working mode. It was him who came up with most of the ideas although Sam really did his best, and aside from some cocky flirting with both Chuck and Risa that got them a pretty pissed Risa and a very uncomfortable Chuck, he did everything fully concentrated and even designed their poster with pinpoint precision.

In the end, they were done with everything in less than two hours and Sam only had a slightly bad conscience because if they hadn't been working on this, he would have gone to the library straight after school instead of letting Lucifer wait for so long.

So as soon as they were finished, Sam hurried up. He quickly said goodbye to everyone and barely heard Castiel inviting Chuck and Risa for later while he already closed the door and left the empty school building.

There was no one at the library, though. Maybe Lucifer had figured he had already gone home. Sam stood in between the bookshelves for a while before he went to check at Abaddon's for Lucifer. Sadly, without success.

“Hey!” Bald grinned widely as Sam entered their room. “We're going out, are you coming?”

Sam looked around. Adam was standing in front of the mirror applying gel to his hair and Curee was pouting on his bed, apparently not allowed to come with them.

“Umm, no thanks.” He had just wanted to check if Lucifer was for some reason in their room, because he wasn't in his own.

“Your decision.” Bald shrugged and turned away from Sam again. He wasn't needed here anymore, so he left with a quick, “Have fun...” mumbled over his shoulder.

Given the circumstances, it was weird how good Bald's mood was. In the past week, he had mostly been bitter about not getting any reaction to their pranks. Even when they had cut stripes into Azazel's favorite hoody, Aze had merely attached some safety pins and continued to wear it with a smile on his face. It had made both Bald and Adam furious, just like Sam had predicted.

It was a good thing, he figured, that they were all cheering up a bit now. Maybe they had gotten over it and were back to living their lives independently from the others.

Sam stopped in the hallway, not knowing where else to look for Luce. He couldn't help feeling betrayed, and worried. They usually spent their free time together, so Sam was a bit disappointed not to find him anywhere. It wasn't like they had an appointment, but Lucifer always wanted to be with him, right? He couldn't be mad because Sam hadn't been at the library earlier, or could he?

It was already dark outside, Lucifer was nowhere to be found and Sam realized with a bad feeling in his gut that he didn't feel like he belonged. Anywhere. He didn't want to be in his own room, not in Lucifer's if he wasn't there with him, and definitely not with Bald and Adam and all the others.

He needed Lucifer.

 _Maybe he's in the basement_ , Sam thought, remembering the party Cas had told everyone about.

When he arrived at the gate to hell, the music coming from it was a lot different from the one they usually played. Instead of the rock music he remembered from the last times he had been there, a fast techno beat got louder once Sam opened the door.

It was dark except for a few colored lights above the bar. Two of the four lights were broken though, so it was kinda difficult to see. Now that the room was crowded, it suddenly seemed a lot smaller. There were more people than Sam had expected, including Chuck and Risa who stood awkwardly next to the door and shouted into each other's ears.

“Hi,” Sam greeted, but the music was too loud for them to hear him and he didn't really want to talk to them anyway. He skimmed the room, looking for a trace of the boy he was searching for. Half of the group home and some people he didn't know were gathered here. He saw Meg, Azazel, even Bela, everyone but Lucifer or...

“Hey, Cas!”

Castiel was in the middle of what had now become the dance floor, moving his body to the music like there was no one else around. Even Crowley, who was dancing right in front of him, didn't seem to be dancing  _ _with__ him.

Sam took a deep breath and put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. The dark-haired boy didn't sop dancing, but his movements became less erratic, so Sam tried to talk to him.

“Have you seen Lucifer? Is he here?” he shouted in Cas' ear.

Castiel turned around, leaving Crowley to dance by himself, and grinned at him. Sam narrowed his eyes. Castiel was laughing, more happily and openly than he usually was, and even for the dim light Sam though that his pupils looked kind of huge.

Cas drew Sam down by the neck, not stopping the movements of his torso. “He should be!”

Sam sighed, glancing around once more before he shouted back, “So you don't know where he is?”

The music became fuller and faster, and for a few seconds Castiel abandoned him and went back to dancing with full concentration. Sam just watched him and waited. After the song ended in a crescendo and Castiel performed a dance move that would have sent Sam to the floor, Cas leaned back over to him.

“Just wait here. He'll come.” And then the next song started playing and Sam was abandoned again, just like everything else around Castiel.

Maybe waiting really was his best option. After all, everyone who even remotely liked Lucifer was here, so he would turn up eventually, right? Still, Sam was worried and not in the mood to dance, so he made his way through the dancing people and to the bar. No one was behind it, of course, but there was plenty of alcohol for everyone to serve themselves.

 _What the hell_ , Sam thought, and poured himself a glass of whiskey, regardless of his distaste for strong liquor. Somehow, it was still set in his mind that beer and whiskey were the drinks he was supposed to drink, like his dad always had. Once he realized that, he decided to mix himself something entirely different next time.

He sat down at the bar and watched the dancing crowd for some time, until someone caught his attention. Or rather, he caught hers.

Her name was Ruby, or at least that's what he thought he remembered. The brunette girl excused herself from the girls she was talking to and headed towards him. Sam turned away. He didn't need to talk to someone who'd been listening to his speech right now.

“Hey!” She had walked around the bar and was leaning over it, forcing Sam to look at her. “You're here?”

Sam nodded to the obvious question. It made him a bit uncomfortable to be talking to her on his own. Not that he thought every girl was after him, but she had that flirty attitude, and a trace of temptation around her smile.

“Where's Lucifer?” she asked, refilling her glass.

“'Don't know.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

Ruby glanced down at it and then up at Sam. She leaned over more and spoke right into his ear, her hair tickling his neck. “Don't you wanna join the party?”

Sam frowned. “I'm already here, ain't I?”

She chuckled, drew back and pulled something from her pocket. A small plastic bag. She grinned, offering it to him. Sam narrowed his eyes to be able to see it better. Once he properly caught sight of it, he shook his head.

“Oh no, thanks, I don't think I should-”

“It's harmless! See?” She pulled the pill out of the bag and held it in front of him, clear for him to see. It was blue, approximately the size of a skittle and imprinted with a butterfly. He smirked at the irony.

Ruby then put the pill to her mouth and Sam thought she was going to swallow it whole, but she only bit off half of it and put the other half down on the bar in front of him.

“Think about it.” She winked, slapped him on the shoulder and went back to the other girls, the drink in her hand.

Sam stared at the pill. He had never done drugs. In fact, he had never been to a party like this. When he was out with Bald and Adam and a few beers, it could barely be considered a party, and Dean had never allowed him to come with him on the few occasions he had been to a club.

As an aspiring lawyer, he shouldn't even consider it. Neither as a lover whose other half had just disappeared. But he had never had the chance to try these kind of things before. Who knew when he would get another one?

He picked up what was left of the pill and examined it. It was cut in half exactly on the line of the butterfly's body so that one wing was missing. And just like that, Sam swallowed it, grimacing at the bitter taste and wishing Lucifer was here.

  


* * *

  


“I wasn't stealing anything,” Lucifer growled, not facing the woman in front of him.

“Then tell me how that immensely expensive collection of Goethe's original letters got into your possession?”

“For the last time, I don't  _know_ . I don't even speak German.” This was all taking too long. Every minute he spent in Abaddon's office was another minute he couldn't be with Sam. He'd had enough of those already. And he needed to be with him . It had already taken too long to convince the antiquarian not to call the police right away, and he was still threatening to call them if Lucifer didn't  _'get a redemption storyline'_. What a stupid man. Stupid, insane and not worth his time.

“Well, I'm just the intermediary here, since you're obviously not talking to him.” She sighed and lowered her voice just a bit. “I don't think he's right in the head either, but this man wants an apology and a helping hand with the shop. Don't you like old books?”

Lucifer scoffed. “Come on.” His voice was calm but tense. “You aren't going to let him call the cops anyway. You can't.”

Abaddon clicked her tongue. “Well, you've been a very bad boy lately. I could drive you to the police office if I thought this was the right thing to do.”

Lucifer gritted his teeth. He needed to keep himself from reacting to her cruelty.

“First punching, now stealing?” She very deliberately leaned forward and looked at him earnestly. Lucifer was trying not to let it show that he was holding his breath. She wouldn't do anything, he told himself. Not anymore. Abaddon's eyes flickered over his body, then back up at his face and Lucifer felt disgust, shame and a severe lack of power, even when he held his head high above her.

She smiled and drew back. “Everything is out of control because of you two. It's amazing.”

“This has nothing to do with Sam.” He couldn't drag him into this. After everything he'd done to please Sam that had arguably made him a better person, speaking up for something he didn't believe in just being a recent example, he couldn't be the reason Sam was getting into trouble now.

“This has everything to do with Sam! He's the catalyst.” Her widening eyes made the smile on her face look more insane than ever before. And maybe that was what she was. Mad, just like everyone around here.

When Lucifer didn't comment, she tilted her head. He felt her penetrating stare on him and he needed to clench his fists to stay still. Her quiet laugh resembled that of a child. She was mocking him. Lucifer blew air through his nostrils, and his hands were shaking with tension when Abaddon spoke again, her voice sweet and innocent.

“Are you happy now? Is it really better than what we had?”

There was a loud crashing noise when Lucifer's chair fell to the floor. He was ready to leave, but Abaddon was standing now, too, blocking his way.

“Nuh-uh.”

The toothy smile was too much for him. He screwed his eyes shut, turned around and hit the wall hard with his fist.

  


* * *

  


Half an hour later, Sam was still feeling normal except for a little tipsiness, the music was still too loud and Lucifer still wasn't with him. He was beginning to think he was cursed to watch other people have fun all night when Cas stumbled towards the bar, the group home's little girl in his arms.

“Come on, lil' Lil.” They stopped right in front of him at the sink and Castiel turned on the water, letting it run over her dress.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked loudly, and Cas only noticed him then.

“Oh, hi. Crowley spilled his drink on her. Being the wonderful person I am, I promised to take care of it.”

Sam felt the need to say that an innocent little girl like her shouldn't be at a place like this anyway, and that a wonderful person would get her away from here, but he kept his mouth shut. He thought maybe it had something to do with the light euphoria he was suddenly feeling. They were all just having fun, and that was a good thing. Why shouldn't the girl, too?

“There you go.” Castiel set her down again, patting her head. Then he leaned over the sink and filled his mouth with the running water. Sam found that he wanted some water, too. So he stood up and walked around the bar. It was strange, like his feet moved a bit faster than usual. Or maybe it was just that the room around him had slowed down.

Before he got to the sink though, the girl was suddenly hugging him. Taken by surprise, Sam hugged her back until she let go of him and started swinging her dress to the music.

“She's adorable,” Sam said into Castiel's ear, and Cas drew back from the sink to look at her.

“Yeah, and she also set her parents’ house on fire while they were asleep.”

The little girl smiled innocently... but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. It was the most frightening thing Sam had ever seen. Then she giggled and ran off to Meg, Bela and Ruby who were standing at the side with their drinks in their hands.

Sam leaned in to Castiel and whispered tensely: “Isn’t she supposed to be in psychiatry or something?” He had meant to sound concerned, but his voice was way more enthusiastic than he had anticipated. He sounded like he was in a panic, but too happy to be bothered by it. And that was when he knew that whatever he had taken had kicked in after all.

Castiel smirked at him. “Aren’t we all?”

Then he frowned and took a closer look at Sam, taking his face into his hands to keep it still and looking straight into his eyes. He grinned.

“Good boy.”

From his reaction, Sam guessed his pupils were just as wide as Castiel's. That was nice. It felt strangely bonding, being under the same drug's influence. Following a sudden urge, Sam hugged Cas tightly and shouted over his shoulder.

“You're so cool, Cas. I mean, I don't know what kind of stuff you're taking all the time, but you're still real witty and intelligent. The way you worked on our project? Wow! I really like you.” It felt like the most honest thing he had ever said, like he had just realized the truth of it once it was out of his mouth.

Cas chuckled. “Drink some water, Sam. Then joining me on the dance floor would be the perfect way to cherish my personality.”

Reluctantly, Sam let go of him and did as he was told. He was so thirsty! The water was running and running down his throat, but it didn't seem like it was ever enough. Was there a limit to how much water could come out of a sink? If there was, Sam was worried he was going to hit it.

“Okay, that's enough.” Cas all but dragged him away from the sink. “Now come on!” He was grinning widely and Sam mirrored it just because it looked so beautiful.

They went to the dance floor quickly and  _wow_ , everything was so light and easy, like he was hovering a few inches above the ground. The music became louder and less annoying in his ears. Like someone had put the jukebox into his body rather than turning up the volume. And how had he thought the room was dark before? It was everything but! The light was bright and shining in just the right places, just the right colors.

“Dance,” Cas breathed into his ear, and Sam did. How could he not? He was fairly certain he was made to dance. It wasn't even a conscious decision. His body just started moving to the beat, and soon he was jumping with the others, happy to be happy, happy they were happy, and everything was just right.

He ignored the concerned look Meg gave him because a moment later, she was gone. There were so many other people, he couldn't care about her. The only thing he really about was the music. He needed to flow with it, feel it guiding his body and taking control over it. God, he felt so good.

“This is amazing!” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider keeping the thought to himself. From the outside, he must look pretty ridiculous. But why would he care anyway? He could just let go.

Cas danced toward him, grinning, and Sam took his hands and forced him to dance with him, not wanting to let go when Cas pulled away. Why was he doing that? They were real good friends, weren't they? But Cas was pointing to his feet. He was doing some strange kind of dance where it looked like he was jumping from one feet to the other without gaining height. Sam tried to copy it but failed terribly.

The expression on his face must have been funny because Cas laughed so loud Sam could hear it over the music inside of him, and he shook his head. Sam laughed with him and returned to letting his body move on its own. This felt right. This felt so good. He didn't want to do anything else in his life ever again, nothing but dancing and smiling and hugging people.

Eventually, there was a song with a slower part and Sam's movements slowed down, still as captured by the music as before but not as erratic. Beside him, Crowley was pressing Castiel to his chest and Cas smiled, wrapping his arms around his neck. Sam watched like a voyeur as their mouths moved to the slow rhythm, tongues darting out and licking over lips and teeth obscenely.

Looking at their faces though, Sam noticed something. Crowley's brows were slightly furrowed, his grip around Castiel tight like he wanted to keep him close, like he wanted to own him. Cas' body was pressed just as tightly against his, but his arms were only lying loosely on Crowley's shoulders. His face was lazy, lacking the passion and emotion in Crowley's eyes. The British boy's expression was full of love. This was at least partially one-sided. Not like with him and Lucifer. Their kisses were real.

Sam missed Lucifer. Not only that, he  _wanted_ him. He had thought about it before, going to the next level, but now he wanted it more than anything he could think of, and he felt that want burning inside of him as he kept dancing. It got easier again once the song was over and Cas let go of Crowley to be able to dance better. They all danced with themselves like before, only it suddenly wasn't enough anymore.

After what felt like five minutes but could easily have been an hour, someone put a hand on his shoulder. Sam turned, laughing at whoever wanted his attention. He didn't need to look twice to see who it was.

“Luce!” His face lit up even more, must have been glowing with joy, and he practically jumped Lucifer, throwing his arms around him and holding him tight. “I searched for you, everywhere... Where were you?”

Lucifer seemed stiff in his grip, and Sam didn't know why. He should be happy, as happy as he was. And he should give him an answer. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he should collect himself. Lucifer wasn't in a good mood. But how could he not be? It had all been so perfect, why couldn't he share Sam's wonderful feeling?

“Sammy?” Lucifer's voice sounded suspicious, not nice, and Sam decided he didn't want to know where he had been, as long as he was here now. So he drew back just enough to be able to press his lips to Lucifer's and kissed him deeply. Lucifer responded, if not as passionately, and Sam sighed into the kiss while his head exploded.

The music in his soul, the dancing people around him, the smell of sweat and smoke, the ecstatic feeling inside of him streaming out wherever he touched Lucifer, it was perfect. Castiel was laughing from behind them, shouting something Sam couldn't understand. And then they kissed open-mouthed, their tongues sliding against one another, and Sam let out a deep moan.

Whatever had held Lucifer back before was gone now. He growled into the kiss and Sam smiled dirtily and grabbed his ass. Lucifer tensed, and for a moment Sam thought he was going to push him away, but then he tightened his grip around him and pressed their bodies closer together and just like that, Sam was gone.

“Fuck, Luce,” he breathed between wet kisses, “I missed you.”

He didn't care that they were standing in the middle of the dance floor. This was perfect, his happiest moment with Lucifer yet, and he just stopped trying to control himself. His hips were pressing against Lucifer's before he even realized he was hard, bucking up into him in little, pleading movements.

That had seemingly been a mistake because now, Lucifer  _ _was__  pushing him away, holding him at arm's length and looking at him with furrowed brows.

“Sam, what-” His face hardened when he looked into his eyes. “What did you take?”

Sam shook his head, not wanting Lucifer to get angry with him. Anytime, but not now. “It wasn't much, Luce!” he shouted over the music. “Just half a pill. There was a butterfly on it, you would have liked it!” He tugged at Lucifer's shirt and tried to kiss him again, but Lucifer was strong and Sam's attempts were weak.

“I hate butterflies.” His nose twitched on the second word, and as Sam watched him, some of his euphoria died, replaced with worry and insecurity.

Sam stared at Lucifer, not knowing what had gone wrong. He just wanted to wash the rage and the worry on his face away, but how was he going to do that? He didn't know what he could do to help. So he just stared at him blankly, his brows furrowed in confusion and desperation. And Lucifer stared back with dead eyes. Sam wished he could bring them back to life.

“Come on.” Lucifer dragged him off the dance floor and towards the couches. Someone Sam didn't know was already sitting there, but they stood up as soon as Lucifer talked to them. Sam didn't want this.

“Luce?” He tugged at his shirt, and Lucifer looked at him questioningly. “I don't want to sit right now. I want to dance, with you and Cas and everybody else. I'm sorry about-” He bit his lip. “about what happened. Let's just have fun, okay? I love you, I want you to be happy.” He said it with hopeful eyes, but Lucifer only pushed him down on the couch.

“You stay here. Okay, Sam? Don't move, don't talk to anyone, just... sit.” He looked like he wanted to leave right away, but then he hesitated and put a kiss on Sam's forehead. “I'll be right back.”

Once he had disappeared in the crowd, Sam's gaze locked on his hands in his lap. His jaw hurt a bit and he realized he'd been biting down. He tried to relax, but couldn't. Guilt overcame him. He felt his heart rate slow down just a bit and he suddenly wanted to punch himself for being so insensitive towards Lucifer. But at the moment, it had just felt right.

He was just too happy.

  


* * *

  


Lucifer made his way back to the dance floor, shoving people aside and ignoring their annoyed comments. This was the worst day he'd had in some time, especially compared to all the good days spent with Sam recently.

It didn't take him long to find Castiel again and when he did, he pulled at his shoulder roughly and hissed into his ear.

“What the hell were you thinking, feeding Sam drugs?”

Castiel stumbled for a second before he focused on Lucifer. He frowned in confusion. “What's up? I thought you guys were having a good time.”

Lucifer collared him hard and said in a tense voice, barely containing his anger, “I put up with your lifestyle. It's your choice. But don't you drag Sam into this. Did you know there was a very good chance cops could have been here tonight?”

Castiel made a disapproving noise and tried to shrug him off. “I didn't give him anything, okay? Don't know where he got it. But he's good, right? I don't see your problem.”

That was what put him over the edge, and suddenly his fist was raised as he shouted, “Don't lie to me!”

“Hey!”

Someone grabbed his wrist, and Lucifer turned his head to see Crowley watching him with a dark expression. “That's enough, alright?” He forced Lucifer's arm down and Lucifer conceded. “Castiel was with me all the time. When Sam came here, he was already high on X.”

Lucifer snorted, looking back and forth between the two. He shook his head. Like a junkie and his dealer would tell him the truth.

“Fuck you,” he spat and turned away without another word.

On his way to the bar, he felt his fingers dig into his palms again. It was just too much at once. Getting away from Abaddon had been difficult enough, and only to find Sam like this. It wasn't only that he was worried about his health and safety. Drugs took away reality. People weren't themselves when they were on drugs, there was fake joy, fake love, fake happiness. And no real consent.

Having Sam shove his erection against him was difficult enough to deal with when he didn't have to ask himself if this was really what Sam wanted, or if he was just acting on what the drug made him want. The last thing Lucifer wanted was for Sam to do something with him he would regret later.

If Castiel had really lied to him about this, that was it. That would be where their friendship ended. The act itself would be hard to forgive but lies, Lucifer wouldn't put up with.

He grabbed the biggest glass he could find and filled it with water before he headed back to Sam and sat it down on the table in front of him. Sam didn't look up. He was curled in on himself, pressing his trembling knees to his chest and shaking his head slowly. Lucifer sighed and sat down next to him. He couldn't be angry with him. Not when he looked like this.

“Hey...” he mumbled into his ear, stroking his back. “I brought water. You should drink something.”

That at least stopped the head shaking and Sam shifted before he sat his feet down slowly and reached for the drink. Once it had touched his lips, he swallowed it down in one go and put the empty glass back on the table.

“How are you feeling?” Lucifer asked, still on the verge of shouting to be heard over the music. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, but first he needed to get things straight with Sam.

Sam hesitated for a moment before he turned to look at him. “Good. I feel really good, Luce, wonderful even.” He didn't look like it, though, as he bit his lip with a worried frown on his face. “I want to hug you, dance with you, everything, though I'm not supposed to.”

Lucifer nodded. He put his arm around Sam's shoulder and drew him close. Alastair glared at them from the opposite couch, a note of disgust on his face, but Lucifer couldn't care less. He kissed Sam's temple and said as nicely as he could, “Do you know why you feel this way?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably and then seemed to give up the struggle and hugged him back tightly. “I'm sorry,” he said so softly that even though he was speaking right into Lucifer's ear, he almost didn't hear it. “I know it upsets you with Cas. Like when you were fighting about him passing out at school, or when we crashed in on that fight. I know you don't approve of it. I shouldn't have taken it. And I'm sorry I pushed... you know. It was just, you weren't there and I was kinda feeling down and then I didn't anymore, you know, and it was really nice and I wish I could share it with you, although, of course, I know it's bad and I'm not supposed to... well...” He trailed off, looking like a guilty little kid.

Lucifer sighed. It was no use talking to him now, but at least Sam seemed to understand why he had reacted this way, although he couldn't possibly know what else was behind this and what a bad timing this was. Maybe Lucifer was being too hard on him because of things Sam didn't even know about. If he kept that out of the picture and concentrated on the facts, Sam had just tried something most teenagers tried at some point nowadays. If it was just a one time thing, he technically shouldn't be angry.

“Who gave you the pill?”

Sam made a soft whining sound, possibly because Lucifer had said nothing to his apology. “Ruby,” he said finally, “I think her name was Ruby.”

Ruby. He would have to talk to her. But he also felt a hint of guilt as he reminded himself that he had taken drugs from her too, once. Just once. “And are you going to ask her for more?”

“What? No!” Sam pulled away and looked him in the eyes, with such sincerity in them, Lucifer had to believe him.

“Good. You're too good to be taking drugs.”

Sam's eyes softened and Lucifer had to move closer to him again to catch what he was saying.

“... understand how I feel about you not going to school?”

Lucifer sighed. “You know the reasons why I don't go to school, right?”

“Yes. I also know plenty of reasons why you should.”

He didn't know what to say to that. Teachers had talked to him about his  _wasted potential'_ before. But that had been them. This was Sam, and for the first time, Lucifer actually thought about it. He wasn't going to get his diploma if he kept on like this. What was going to happen if he dropped out? A few weeks ago, he wouldn't have worried about it. But now, he wanted his future to be with Sam. How was he going to be with him if he dropped out of high school? Frustrated him with his stubbornness?

It wouldn't even be as bad as it used to be. He could spend all his free time in school with Sam, wait for him at his locker, meet him in the hallway after school. Suddenly, his reasons to go outweighed the reasons not to.

“Tell you what,” he shouted, his right cheek pressed against Sam's left. “You promise not to take anything ever again, and I promise to go to school each and every day.”

Sam pulled back a few inches and looked at him with wide eyes. The dilated pupil gave it an almost comical touch. “Really?”

Before Lucifer could even nod, Sam was on him, pressing his smiling lips against his. “ __IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_ _ ,” he rejoiced in one quick breath once they parted again, and Lucifer forced a smile.

“Yeah, could you tell me again tomorrow?”

It might be the ecstasy pill talking, which was why Lucifer couldn't fully appreciate it, but he also couldn't help feeling warm inside hearing it. He was suddenly very glad they'd said it once before, and he even felt a bit bad to see that guilty expression back on Sam's face.

So Lucifer pushed a strand of hair out of Sam's face, hoping to push the expression away with it. And it helped. At least Sam's lips quirked upwards just a bit for a moment, before his brows furrowed in worry again.

“Where were you?”

Lucifer looked away. Maybe he could tell him everything. Why he had been so angry even before he had come to the party. Why Sam touching him this way was as nice for him as it was a difficult challenge. Why he was privileged in this God damn place.

Maybe Sam was the right person to turn to. But not today.

“It's nothing,” Lucifer said with a shrug. “I got into trouble for something I didn't do.”

He didn't want that expression on Sam's face. Even the fake joy from before was better than this damn worry, so Lucifer cut Sam off before he could say anything.

“I'll tell you about it tomorrow. For now...” He stood up, taking Sam with him. “Let's dance.”

And they did. And it wasn't even that bad.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

“They did  _what_?”

So this was why they had asked Lucifer to come to the basement. It had taken them two whole weeks to find out. Two weeks that had been rather good. School wasn't as bad when you could spend your lunch times with the one you loved instead of starving all day until dinner, and make out pressed against your locker for everyone to see. They all knew about them by now, and although it made things difficult for Sam, Lucifer was proud to show everyone what he had, he alone.

Originally, he had wanted to take revenge on whoever had put that book into his bag. But as one perfect day with Sam after another had passed by, he'd decided to let it drop. And now he didn't know how Alastair had found out, or why he thought he could tell everyone.

Meg looked like she had just been slapped. “Why didn't you tell us?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Nothing happened. I was angry, it passed, I didn't think it was worth any trouble.”

Alastair laughed bitterly. “Yes, probably too busy making out with your boyfriend and granting his every wish like a bitch?”

Now everyone started arguing over Alastair's attitude towards Lucifer and the importance of foisted robbery. Only one person kept her mouth shut. Lucifer glared over to her. Ruby was either smart or scared enough not to comment.

He sighed. “Shut up, everyone.” He was even a bit surprised that they did, every single one of them. He still held power over them, even if he cared less about them than ever before. “I didn't get in trouble, not really. If any of you want to start a counter-attack, go ahead.” Thinking about Sam's wish to keep everyone unharmed, he added halfheartedly, “Just don't overdo it.”

Azazel grinned and quickly started whispering ideas into Lilith's ear, but Alastair laughed and stood up.

“This is ridiculous. How much has this boy softened you?” He spat on the ground a few inches in front of Lucifer. “I thought we were supposed to be the bad guys, and now you put up with this?”

Everyone was staring at them. Lucifer didn't react to the provocation, just looked at Alastair with his head held high. “If you've got a problem with how I handle things, you're free to go.”

Alastair barely even looked at him before he went out the door. “Right. I don't want to spend my time with you faggots, anyway. Have fun in Transexual, Transylvania.”

It was quiet after the door had slammed shut. There was a void in Lucifer's head, like he couldn't decide whether to be angry, embarrassed or completely indifferent. So he was nothing.

The only one to say something was Azazel. “Hey...” He looked hurt. Of course, Alastair had always been some kind of idol for the boy.

Other than that, the room was quiet, an awkward silence hanging over them. It was probably expected of him to say something. Only he didn't want to. Frustrated, Lucifer looked at the other teenagers and went out of the basement shortly after Alastair. His first instinct was to go to Sam but he would probably be with his roommates and they rarely had time for themselves lately anyway, so Lucifer went to his own room. A big mistake.

“Holy shite, Luci _fuck-_ ”

If he had listened closely before opening the door, he would have known. He could have walked away and never thought about it again. Sadly, it hadn't happened this way. Instead, the image of Castiel on his knees and Crowley taking him from behind burned itself into Lucifer's eyes and he could still see it on his eyelids even if he closed them.

He walked out of the room backwards and closed the door behind him. Standing there, he closed his eyes and prepared himself for the flashbacks. He wanted to get it over with quickly. But nothing came. He felt immensely uncomfortable, seeing the two of them like this, but that was it. The scene hadn't provoked anything. His body was still mostly relaxed, his hands hanging loosely at the side of his body. He opened his eyes.

Could this have something to do with Sam? Maybe by getting more comfortable with him, he could also get better in general.

He didn't have more time to think about it though, because then the door opened and Crowley rushed out and past him, smelling of sweat and sex.

Lucifer took a deep breath and went inside again. Castiel was fully clothed, grinning at him apologetically.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “Didn't think you were coming back so fast.”

Lucifer said nothing, only sat down on his own bed, keeping his distance to Castiel. He thought about Sam. How much Sam wanted him already. Maybe he could finally give him what he wanted.

“Was it at least good?”

Castiel sat down opposite of him and shrugged. “As good as it always is... until you interrupted us. Could have said something if you wanted to join in.”

If Lucifer didn't know he was joking, he would be disgusted. This wouldn't feel right with anyone but Sam, and Fergus Crowley was the last male person he wanted to get sexual with. Not to mention the thought of sleeping with Castiel felt strangely incestuous.

But something had crossed his mind...

“So you and Crowley are fucking regularly?”

Castiel huffed a laugh at the direct question. “Yeah, I think you could say that.”

“Here, in your bed, when I'm not around.”

“Exactly.”

Castiel's eyebrows were raised, like he was bracing himself for whatever was to come now, ready to defend himself with all the sass he could come up with. But that wasn't why Lucifer had asked. “So,” he began slowly, “do you use...”

There was silence for a moment. A silence in which Lucifer looked to the ground and finally up to Castiel. Their eyes met for only a second. Then Castiel blinked and started laughing when he understood what Lucifer was talking about. “Dude, are you asking me for lube?”

Lucifer gritted his teeth but said nothing.

“So you and Sam are finally doing it, huh? I have no idea how you could wait so long anyway, after being obsessed with him for... well... eternity.”

That wasn't any help. The fact that even Castiel was wondering why it took him so long set pressure upon him, and he had enough knowledge about the correlation of mind and body to know that pressure was the last thing he needed.

When Lucifer still didn't say anything, Castiel smirked. “Lube and condoms are under my bed. Just... tell me when you need the room to be free, okay? We don't want to keep walking in on each other.”

He winked and was about to go but Lucifer said, “Alastair has left us.”

Castiel stopped and looked at him. “What, like, left the group home?”

Lucifer shook his head. “He said he doesn't want to be around faggots anymore.”

“Yeah,” Castiel snorted, “That's probably my fault. But it's not like he's going to be missed anyway.”

“Mh.” Lucifer traced the scars on his left palm thoughtfully. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

  


* * *

  


“You're moving out.”

“What?”

Sam stared from Bald to Adam and back again.

“It's not working out, Sam,” Adam sighed. “You never even really talked to us in the past few weeks, and now you're hooking up with  _Lucifer_? Sorry, but you can't stay here.”

Sam was still staring blankly at them for a moment, but then he snorted. “And who gives you the right to throw me out?”

It wasn't like he wanted to stay in one room with them because he liked them. He just didn't know where else he would go, and he wasn't one to bow down and leave just because he was told to.

“You're going to trade rooms with Alastair. We haven't asked Abaddon yet, but it shouldn't be a problem,” Bald said casually, like he didn't just throw Sam out of their room.

“Alastair?” Sam laughed bitterly. “Lucifer is bad, but Alastair is okay? He's a psycho!”

From the corner of the room, Curee giggled, and Bald shot him a glare before looking back at Sam. “He made up his mind and changed sides. You obviously didn't.”

“Yeah, change sides.” He huffed a laugh. “There shouldn't be sides, Bald. And good luck with Abaddon, because I'm not moving out just like this.”

With that, he slammed the door shut behind him and went to Lucifer's room. The whole drama was still ridiculous and he was tired of all the bullshit. He needed to see the only person here who didn't look down on him right now.

Lucifer was sitting on his bed, as usual, a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Castiel wasn't there, so the opposite bed was free, but Sam sat down next to Lucifer anyway.

“So ecstasy is bad, but smoking is alright?” he teased, snitching the cigarette and raising it to his lips. The smoke had barely touched his lungs before he started coughing so hard he thought he was going to choke on it and die a horrible death.

“Careful, Sammy.” Lucifer slapped him on the back gently and took the cigarette back. “Drugs are bad in general. Don't think that I approve of them just because I use one occasionally.”

“Sure.” Sam grinned and took a look at the book Lucifer was reading. “Oh, Bukowski. You mind reading aloud?” He could use a nice distraction now, and Lucifer always read beautifully, with his calm voice and the emphasis on just the right words. He had read everything from biology books to children's books to him, but now Sam was in the mood for a dark, postmodern story.

Lucifer smiled. “I'm not sure that's beneficial for your development.”

But he started reading the short story anyway. Sam watched his lips form the words, creating a dirty and foul atmosphere to an extent where Sam could almost taste the cheap alcohol and feel the whores' sweaty skin. It was obscenely beautiful, the reading sometimes interrupted by the sound of smoking, and somehow the smoke stayed in Lucifer's voice even after the cigarette was long gone.

At some point, Sam had stopped following the plot. He pulled the book away from a surprised Lucifer and kissed him. He could still taste the cigarettes on his lips and tongue, and it wasn't repulsing but rather arousing.

Sam rolled them both over so Lucifer was lying on top of him. Their lips kept sliding in a slow but intense rhythm, only interrupted by their tongues meeting and Sam felt a shiver run through his body every time they reunited. His body was glowing with heat, and Lucifer was still hovering a few inches above him when Sam felt himself hardening in his pants.

“Luce...” he murmured into an open mouthed kiss, drawing a low moan from the other boy. Encouraged, Sam kept his eyes closed as he let his hand wander down from his back to his hip and closed the painful distance Lucifer had left between them.

For a second, a wave of lust overcame him and it must have been him who moaned loudly as their erections touched and he could feel Lucifer just as hard against him.

Only a second though, because then the contact was lost when Lucifer drew back and Sam opened his eyes to see a grimacing face. And not in a good way. It looked almost painful. What was wrong? He knew why Lucifer hadn't liked it at the party, when Sam had been drugged and there had been so many people around them. But he was completely sober now, and they were as alone as they could be in an institution like this. So what was bothering him? They were two halves made whole, he had said it himself, so why not connect physically, too? Wasn't he just as desperate for it?

“Luce? Are you okay?” He tried to sit up, but Lucifer opened his eyes and pushed him down again. The grimace had faded into his usual calm expression with just a bit of determination sparkling in his eyes.

“Don't worry,” he murmured in response and kissed Sam lightly, his lips moving across his cheek to his ear. “Are you sure you want this?” Lucifer was breathing into his ear so softly, yet Sam could feel his voice in every body part, and he wanted to insist on getting an explanation but his embrace was so warm, his voice so close, and his cock was still painfully erect, so he spat out the truth.

“Yes! Yes, Lucifer.”

Lucifer kissed his neck, sucking and biting just a bit, and just that drove Sam insane. Then he pulled his shirt up, only to his chest, and formed a line of kisses down his torso, his hands touching every inch of him. Lucifer's eyes wandered over his body in adoration and Sam had to close his own and concentrate on the touch to not jump him right this second.

“You're beautiful,” Lucifer said softly as he unbuttoned Sam's pants and pulled him out, brushing his fingers lightly over the flesh. Sam almost whimpered, until he remembered there were still other people behind there walls, and he kept his mouth closed.

And then, finally, he could feel the warm heat of Lucifer's mouth around him, and he needed to cover his own mouth with his hands to keep himself from screaming.

  


* * *

  


“Oh, God.”

This was, if maybe not the best, then at least one possible way of dealing with the problem. Sam was still breathing heavily when Lucifer put one last light kiss to his thigh and pulled his pants back up. It was the first time he had done this, but judging from Sam's reaction, it had been good enough.

Lucifer couldn't hold Sam back when he closed in and kissed him deeply. Sam probably tasted himself on Lucifer's tongue. His dick twitched at the thought, but he managed to grab Sam's wrist before he could touch him.

“Don't.” It came out harsher than he had intended, and he tried to make up for it by cupping Sam's face and putting another soft kiss to his lips. “I'm fine.”

Sam frowned, but eventually gave in and they lay down next to each other on the small bed, Sam in Lucifer's arms and cuddled up against his chest. He could have granted Sam's wish. He could have slept with him just like that. But then again, no, he couldn't have. He could make Sam feel good, worship his body in every way imaginable, but to give himself over to Sam? To allow him control over him, even when Lucifer was supposedly the one in control, wasn't something he could do yet.

For a while, neither of them said anything as they lay there arm in arm, but then Sam whispered into his shirt. “What's wrong?”

Lucifer tensed. His heart started racing again. It couldn't. Sam mustn't hear it, and he would, he would hear it if it kept pounding like that. He needed to take control fast, relax and guard up. He took a deep breath and started stroking Sam's arm, which ironically calmed himself down. He cleared his throat. “I will tell you, I promise. But not now.”

Sam looked hurt, like Lucifer had rejected him. Had he?

There was silence again and Sam traced the muscles on Lucifer's chest with his finger. It felt nice. Lucifer closed his eyes and told himself that if this was okay, if this felt good, the rest would also be okay. Eventually. Sam didn't ask again. He just kept caressing Lucifer softly until Lucifer didn't know if he was still awake but didn't feel like he was sleeping, either. It was like some kind of meditation. Every muscle in him relaxed, and the only thing he felt was Sam's touch. He felt closer to him now than he had just a few minutes ago with his dick in his mouth.

“Bald and Adam want to throw me out of their room,” Sam suddenly said, and Lucifer opened his eyes to look at him.

“What makes them think they can?”

Sam smiled and Lucifer could feel it against his shoulder. It made him smile, too.

“They want me and Alastair to trade places. I think they'll ask Abaddon soon.”

Lucifer snorted. “She's not going to give them permission.”

Sam looked up at him and frowned. “What makes you so sure of that?”

And there was his chance to tell him. To finally explain. But he couldn't. And if he could only fix himself, Sam wouldn't ever need to know.

“I just know. I've been here longer than most of us, I know the way her mind works. You're causing too much trouble to be put anywhere less dangerous. Although I personally would appreciate it.” It was exactly what he had already asked her for: Get Sam out of this room full of low lives constantly trying to spoil his beautiful personality.

“I know. It's not that I wouldn't want to move in with Azazel and Crowley. I just don't want to be treated like a child by people my age. They didn't even ask me, just stated the fact, you know?”

Lucifer nodded slowly. “I see. Then you have nothing to worry about. Believe me.”

Silence again, and then Sam asked carefully, “You and her have some kind of history, right?”

He didn't need to say her name for Lucifer to tense again. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and finally said, “She likes me.”

Sam shifted so he was lying half on top of him. “I know you're some kind of favorite of hers. I just can't figure out why.” When Lucifer didn't say anything, Sam went on. “And I've been wondering about something else. If she likes you so much, why does she let you sleep in a cupboard?”

Lucifer sighed. He was not ready for this conversation. “I used to sleep somewhere else. I didn't like it there.” The words were pressed out through gritted teeth. He could feel his own nails digging into his palms again. For a moment he almost panicked, scared of flashing images and worse, scared he would have to get Sam out of his room so he wouldn't see his outburst.

“Luce?”

The door was flung open, and Lucifer's head snapped back, half expecting to see red hair and lipstick. But it was only Castiel with a grin spread across his face as he saw them cuddling, and the sight was so relieving that Lucifer felt his whole body shudder as it relaxed.

“Oh hey, sorry if I'm interrupting something.” He winked. “Once you're done being in love, come out of there.”

There were other voices coming from the corridor, and Lucifer frowned.

“What's going on?” Sam asked, sitting up.

Castiel grinned widely. “See for yourself. I think it's safe to say you won't get another opportunity.”

They looked at each other. Lucifer shrugged, secretly glad for the distraction, and they got out of bed.

Almost all of them were gathered there, sitting in a line against the wall. Meg, Ruby, Crowley, even Bela. And Azazel, who was grinning even wider than Castiel with Lilith sitting on his lap.

They didn't have to wait for long. Before either of them could ask the others what exactly they were doing here, the bathroom door was opened and Baldur stepped outside... naked and wet.

“You're going to pay for this,” he hissed, his voice barely audible over the laughter coming from each of them. Even Sam and Lucifer himself were chuckling as Baldur ran down the hallway, trying to cover his small dick hanging soft between his legs. Covering it from behind only caused his legs to spread awkwardly and he jumped more or less from foot to foot, until he finally gave up and just walked to his room as quickly as possible.

“Hey Baldur,” Castiel shouted after him, “your cock doesn't look all that promising but damn, nice ass!”

At this point, Azazel was practically rolling on the floor laughing and Lucifer grinned at Sam, who was still wearing an amused expression but had raised his eyebrows. “That was horribly satisfying.”

Lucifer's grin faded into a small smile. “You don't want it to be?”

Sam shook his head, but didn't sound all too serious when he argued, “It's not fair. Something like this shouldn't be done to anybody, regardless of how much of an asshole they are.”

“You know my opinion on that.” Lucifer shrugged. “He had it coming.”

Sam nodded slowly and kept his eyes glued to the ground, avoiding Lucifer's gaze.

“Yeah. I know.”

  


* * *

  


Things got more difficult from then on. Like Lucifer had predicted, Abaddon didn't give them permission to trade rooms. Up until then, Sam had almost adjusted to the place and hadn't questioned it anymore, but it only reminded him of how fucked up this whole thing was – some sort of group home, most likely illegal, supported by one or more religious fanatics and run by a woman who did anything  _not_ to help the teenagers in her custody.

So Sam stayed in one room with them, but for all the support he got, he might as well be sleeping in the corridor. His roommates were bitter and rude around him. They barely acknowledged his existence and if they did, it was just to remind him that it was his turn to wash the sheets, or to tell him for the hundredth time that they could be friends again if he only stopped seeing Lucifer.

Which of course, he didn't.

In fact, he spent almost all of his time with Lucifer now that he was not the slightest bit welcome in his own room. He couldn't care less. Being with Lucifer was enough. It was cool.

“Hey, Luce.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and smiled as Lucifer jumped and swore, before he greeted him with a kiss.

“You're a horrible person,” he muttered, but his eyes were still smiling.

“I know.” Sam took his hand and dragged him across the playing field. “What are your teachers saying?”

“Oh, they're delighted. Miss Bradbury beams with joy whenever she sees me and I think my PE teacher knows my name by now.”

Sam snickered. “Do you know his?”

“No.”

“I figured.” He smiled at Lucifer, happy to have him here. It was amazing that he had actually listened to him and was now going to school more often than not. But still, Sam was a bit worried. “Finals start in a week. Are you going to make it?”

Lucifer took a deep breath and sighed. “I don't know. They've been giving me shit for missing classes for as long as I can remember and yet I always passed. But my maths and PE teachers this year really hate me. I don't think I'll get 60% even if I actually make an effort now.”

Sam nodded. So Lucifer wouldn't graduate just now. There were two options left, then.

“Are you going to drop out?” Even Sam himself could hear the fear and hope in his voice, and Lucifer smiled and put an arm around him.

“You know, Sammy... I was thinking of repeating the year.”

A smile spread across Sam's face and he kissed Lucifer. That was perfect. They were going to do their senior year together, and it was going to be amazing. Everything was okay as long as he was with Lucifer, no matter the stupid gang wars or a bit of trouble at school. After all, Lucifer was doing a lot to please Sam, so Sam could return the favor and alter his priorities.

They went off campus and automatically headed the direction of the library, but Sam stopped and dragged Lucifer in a different direction. Today was special and it was time to try something different.

“Let's go to the mall.” He smiled at Lucifer just in time to see the surprise on his face.

“What?”

It was the strangest day they had ever spent together. Strange because it wasn't strange at all. They did just what any other couple would do; they sat at the small fountain and talked intimately while a hundred anonymous people passed them by, they strolled through the mall and looked at things without any intention or money to buy them. It was so normal that it didn't fit their usual activities.

At some point, Lucifer didn't shut up about how good that white suit would look on Sam, and Sam had to actually try it on to silence him. When Sam came out of the fitting room, Lucifer's wide eyes and the sheer adoration in them made Sam slightly uncomfortable and he smiled awkwardly while Lucifer went in a circle around him, looking him up and down, and finally came to stand in front of him with his hands tracing the line of his body.

“One day,” he murmured, “you'll decide you want to stay with me forever. And when you do, you will look exactly like this.”

With that, he pushed Sam back into the fitting room and Sam was still holding his breath when he put on his normal clothes, thinking about what Lucifer had implied. Of course he wanted to stay with him. And while he closed the zipper of his jeans, he pictured them somewhere in Canada, him in that white suit and Lucifer in a black one – maybe with a red tie? - giving their promises to each other. It was kitschy as fuck. Or they could just do it in America. Castiel would be their priest and there would be free condoms for everyone.

When he finally got out of the fitting room, something else he had almost forgotten about came to his mind and he giggled. It seemed like ages ago, but the mental image was still just as hilarious.

Lucifer stopped and raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Sam only dragged him to the nearest pharmacy. He picked out a lipstick and held it out to him wordlessly.

“... It's hot pink,” Lucifer deadpanned, and Sam burst out laughing. The way his brows were slightly furrowed in concentration as he examined the lipstick was just too much. It also didn't help at all when Lucifer added, “I like pink,” and applied it to his lips with a completely serious expression.

Sam was almost too done to follow Lucifer out of the store quickly before someone noticed, and when they were on the streets again, he started laughing every time he looked to his left to see a fabulously painted Lucifer.

“You look stunning, darling,” Sam joked and followed Lucifer around the corner.

“Oh, do I?”

Before he could do anything to prevent it, Lucifer was kissing him extra-sloppy with his mouth all over the place. Sam didn't have a mirror at hand, but judging from what Lucifer looked like, there must have been pink lipstick all over his mouth, chin and cheeks.

“You're welcome,” Lucifer grinned, and they walked home together.

On their way, a white butterfly flew next to them, happily fluttering around. Or at least it looked happy. It was circling Lucifer's head and Lucifer tried to get rid of it, mumbling something about 'stupid insects not learning to stay away from him'.

Sam snickered. “Looks like your mimicry doesn't fool them, Luce. They do it themselves, they know how it works.”

Lucifer shot him a glance. “What are you talking about? I'm just being myself, I'm not trying to fool anyone.”

When Sam started laughing, Lucifer rubbed his hand over his mouth to get the lipstick off and furrowed his brows. “I'm naturally intimidating.” Despite all the wiping, there was still lots of lipstick all over his face. It was hilarious.

Sam put his hand away and kissed his light pink lips. “Sure you are.”

“Stop it, Sammy.”

Somewhere in between half-serious arguing and shared kisses, they found their way home.

There was a less pleasant surprise waiting for them at dinner table. Since the others had tried to throw him out last Sunday, Sam had thought it best to finally leave their table and sit with Lucifer. Which he did now, sitting on the seat that had belonged to Castiel before all of this had started.

Whoever's turn it was to set the tables this week had apparently been in a good mood because there were two bowls of salad already waiting on their table. Sam grabbed his fork and started eating hungrily, his stomach feeling empty after the long day.

He swallowed several bites before he let his fork fall to the floor and jumped away from the table, suddenly hit with the urge to puke. There, between a green leave and a tomato, was a thick, brown slug moving across his salad and leaving a slimy trail behind. Sam could almost feel the slime in his mouth, and wasn't there something crawling down his throat?

There was another one in the middle of his bowl, smaller but just as sickening. Sam pressed a hand to his mouth and stood up. He wasn't hungry anymore.

Only then did he realize that Lucifer was already standing and moving towards the other table where Alastair was smugly grinning to himself. Sam got the feeling that if he didn't do something, Luce was gonna punch him right then and there.

“What do you think you're doing, Alastair?” Lucifer growled, leaning over the table a bit, his fists clenched and ready to start another fight, but Sam held him back.

“No, Luce! Stop.” He put his arms around his chest and pulled him closer, away from Alastair.

“Sam,” Lucifer said angrily, turning his head to look at him. “He's a traitor and an asshole.”

“I know, I know.” Sam led him away from the table, feeling Abaddon's and everybody else's eyes on them. They surely were getting a lot of unwanted attention lately. Better for walking away though than for having a fight.

He glared back at Alastair when he said, loud enough for him to hear, “He'll get what he deserves soon enough.”

  


* * *

  


After dinner, Lucifer told them all to wait for him in the basement. He turned to Sam, put a strand of hair behind his ear and whispered, “Go to my room. I don't want you to be at their mercy tonight.”

“But Abaddon-” Sam protested, but Lucifer just pressed his head to his shoulder.

“She won't say anything. It's just for one night.” He put a kiss on Sam's forehead and pulled away. “Please, Sam. I'll talk to Castiel, he will let you sleep in his bed.”

With that, he left Sam and went to the basement. He had stayed out of it long enough. Now that Sam and he had been attacked, he needed to do something. Diplomacy wasn't going to get them anywhere.

“I need you to come up with something,” he said without preamble and walked further into the room.

“Come up with what?” Azazel asked, sounding excited and interested.

“With something to finally make them surrender. I don't care what, just get them to stop.” He knew he didn't sound all too professional, but he also knew he didn't need to. They followed his orders. And why not use the little army he'd never asked for? He himself would have to watch Sam, no time for planning or performing any attacks.

“Lucifer...” Ruby began carefully, letting Lilith jump down from her lap. The little girl giggled and went to the jukebox, where she rummaged around in their music collection. “That's impossible. Sam explained it, didn't he? They are always going to be pissed, and it's going to go on forever.”

Lucifer hesitated. Maybe she was right, but _something needed to be done_. “Then at least don't let them get the impression they can do whatever they want.”

The girls still looked at him dubiously, but Azazel nodded. “Don't worry, we'll think of something!” It was interesting to see the boy get so excited about this, when a few weeks ago he had been mostly quiet.

Castiel clicked his tongue. “Are you sure Sam is going to like this? He's the one who's basically surrounded by enemies all the time.”

Lucifer nodded. “That's why he's going to sleep in our room tonight. Castiel, do you mind staying with Azazel and Crowley?”

“Not at all,” the British boy answered for him with a smug smile, while Castiel merely shrugged as if he couldn't care less. Next to them, Azazel smiled awkwardly. Lucifer didn't envy him.

“Good, that is all. I'll be upstairs.”

When he was on his way out, though, someone tapped his shoulder. Lucifer turned around to see Meg standing behind him. Ruby was at Lilith's side now and poor Azazel was left with watching Crowley and Castiel kiss.

“Anything else?” Lucifer prompted.

“Yes. I want to know how you're doing.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows at the question. Smalltalk wasn't really one of his strengths, especially not now. “Fine. Good. And you?”

Meg smiled with a sort of distant expression. “He really is good for you...” For a moment Lucifer thought they were done and was about to just leave her standing there staring, but eventually she snapped back to reality. “Me too, yeah...”

There was something hanging in the air between them, and Lucifer realized they hadn't talked much since he and Sam had gotten together. Before that, Meg had been closest to him, next to Castiel. But he wasn't the only one devoted to another person.

“Is something wrong with Bela?”

“Not like that.” Meg shook her head. “But she wants to get out of here. And I'll go with her.”

It was surprising. In its own way more surprising was that he actually felt a bit taken aback. “Oh.” Lucifer nodded slowly, regarding her. What was he supposed to say to that? He eventually settled with, “I wish you good luck.”

Meg smiled. “Thanks. I hope you're okay and you're... not going to tell.”

“Why would I?” The corners of his mouth quirked up. “When are you leaving?”

“Oh, I don't know. We haven't planned it yet, but I guess as soon as finals are over, we'll be gone. Bela says I shouldn't worry about it but I do want to graduate... some day.”

She smiled, and so did Lucifer. “You will.”

Meg huffed a laugh and hugged him, just like that. So he hugged her back, and it felt better than he'd expected. She was so much smaller than him, and definitely smaller than Sam, but her leather jacket felt nicely cold under his skin. It was a long embrace, longer than Lucifer had ever hugged her or anyone but Sam. He had felt the need to pull away somewhere in the middle of it, but had instead kissed her hair. In the end, it was her who pulled away first.

“Thanks for everything, Lucifer. I-”

She couldn't say more because Lilith was suddenly screaming. They looked at each other and went over to the jukebox, where she was standing with a tape in her hands.

“What's wrong, sweetie?” Ruby was with her first, stroking her back soothingly.

“It's broken,” Lilith cried, throwing the tape to the ground.

Lucifer picked it up. It was the  _Eagles_ tape,  _Hotel California_. Considering how old it must have been, it was no real surprise. It had been here for so long, and it was more home to all of them than the walls of the former hotel ever had been.

“Oh no, not that one,” Ruby said, more to herself than to the crying girl. “I'm sorry, Lil. Maybe we can get another one somewhere.”

“I don't want another one!” Lilith whined and now they were all around her, patting her and trying to offer some comfort.

Without further comment, Lucifer left the tape on the bar and went out of the basement and upstairs. He didn't need to deal with yet another drama today. All he wanted was to get back to his room and sleep with Sam by his side. It wasn't something they would be able to do often, and Lucifer wanted it to be perfect.

Sam stood up from Lucifer's bed as soon as he entered the room.

“Hey,” he breathed, smiling as he saw Lucifer. He returned the smile.

“Hey.” He closed the door and sat down on his bed, drawing Sam close to him. “Sit.”

Sam did, pushing Lucifer back against the wall and leaning onto his shoulder. “They're going to pay for this,” Lucifer mumbled, absently playing with Sam's hair.

“I don't know,” Sam sighed, easing into Lucifer's touch. “Maybe it's time to go.”

Lucifer turned his head to look at him. “You want to get away from here?” Apparently that was suddenly a common thought among them.

Sam huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Who doesn't?”

True, to some degree. It was like they were all stranded here, and now it was easier to stay than to go and find a new place. As much as they enjoyed their freedom, none of them really _wanted_ to stay. Especially with what had happened in the past few weeks. The place had never been safe, but now it was like an open battlefield. Even the ones who weren't directly affected had to watch their every step not to be dragged into it. And Meg and Bela were already planning to leave. They had each other. Nothing was keeping them here.

“I'm turning eighteen in January. I would have left by then, anyway.”

Lucifer could hear Sam smile. “Who knows, maybe we'll run away together.” He yawned. “But first I need to make it through my finals.”

“Like you're not going to get straight As in every exam.”

Sam laughed. “We'll see.”

They stayed quiet for a while, listening to the muffled voices from the corridor and the whirling of the wind at the open window. It was almost dark outside. The sun had already set but was still illuminating the sky, making it that deep indigo blue just before it would turn to black.

“So, are you really going to have me sleep in Cas' bed?”

As a response, Lucifer shifted them both so they were lying in his bed, and started to take off his pants. “I wanted to at least give you the option.”

“Not needed,” Sam laughed as he took off his own pants and crawled under the blankets.

Both let out a sigh as they wrapped their arms around each other and intertwined their naked legs. It had a very different feeling to it than to lie next to each other in the forest or even down in the basement. While each had their perks, sharing a bed was most intimate in its own way. It was private and domestic, like the boys were finally letting each other fully into their lives.

They kissed, sloppy and soft at first. Their lips met ever so lightly with a plopping sound and didn't linger for long. But the pressing of their lips became more forceful and Lucifer closed his eyes and rolled them over so he was lying on top of Sam, his hand clenching tightly in Sam's hair as their kiss deepened further, heating them both up.

It wasn't long until there were tongues involved and Sam made little greedy noises. Hearing them, Lucifer couldn't help pressing his hardened cock through their boxer shorts against Sam. Their erections met and both of them let out a low moan.

Sam broke the kiss and they looked at each other. In the darkness Sam's pupils were large, his eyes almost fully black, and he had something wild and a bit dangerous about him, like that one time he had tried to convince everyone of not fighting each other. If it had turned Lucifer on back then, it was now setting his body on fire. From under him, Sam was bucking up hard against Lucifer, and it was going to drive him mad.

“Luce...” Sam growled into his ear, “I want you.”

And that was it. Because Lucifer wanted it too and with Sam, he could do it. There was nothing holding him back. Just the need to be one with him.

“How do you want me?” he asked, biting down on Sam's neck and pressing his hips firmly against Sam's.

Sam huffed and smiled. A dark, sinful smile. ”Inside.”

Lucifer groaned, kissing and sucking Sam's collarbone before he pulled away and reached under Castiel's bed blindly. After pushing aside a few shirts, he found lube and a condom and turned back to Sam.

“You're sure about this?” he murmured, tracing a line along Sam's hip bones and under his waistband. Sam's hips reached upwards, trying to get the friction back.

“Yes,” he moaned, pulling Lucifer down to him with one hand and pushing his boxers off with the other. “ _Yesyesyes_.”

Lucifer bit his lip and coated his fingers with lube. He had never done this before, not even on himself. He didn't want to hurt Sam. The thought of it brought some of the uneasiness back and in the distance, a woman's voice seemed to be laughing at him.

But Sam seemed to be okay with it because in the time Lucifer had just stared at him, he had reached down to Lucifer's hand and placed his finger at his entrance.

“Lucifer...”

So Lucifer pushed in. It was unfamiliar, but good. With Sam moaning under his touch, his dick was twitching and throbbing in no time. And even before Lucifer could try a third finger, Sam pulled him closer and whispered, “Now.”

There still was some fear, there was no denying that. But with Sam looking like that and Lucifer's erection demanding to be taken care of, it was no contest.

With the first thrust into him, Lucifer was gone. They moved together, hard and slow in a perfect rhythm, not caring that the bed seemed on the edge of collapsing with each thrust. It was indescribable, like finally, after all the time they had been waiting, they were truly and fully one.

And when they came almost at the same second, Lucifer could have sworn that their flesh was torn from their bodies and newly composed into one single entity of Sam and Lucifer.

  


* * *

  


It was the first and last time they had sex for the time being.

Sam awoke from a loud sound, like a door slamming shut or a firing gun. His eyes flung open to the sight of a dark room that wasn't his. He needed a few seconds to remember why there were warm arms wrapped around him, and why he felt a bit sore. When the memories of last night came back to him, his lips formed a smile and he let out a contented sigh. No shooting. Maybe it had just been in his dream or something.

He turned in Lucifer's embrace to get a look at his face. The sun wasn't up yet but from the first light of day Sam could see that he was awake, too, frowning in the general direction of the door. For a moment, Sam just studied his face. There was a bit of stubble all over his cheeks and neck. His mouth and nose looked relaxed but his eyes, blue even in the dim light, were wake and alert, which gave him an overall troubled expression.

It faded once he looked back at Sam, the concern replaced with affection.

“Good morning, Sam.”

Sam smiled, leaned over to him and kissed him gently. His lips were soft and warm, giving Sam the feeling of being wrapped in a pile of feathers and fluffy blankets.

“Good morning,” he whispered back, cuddling up to him.

He would have wished for this to last longer. In this moment, Sam couldn't imagine ever doing anything else than to lie in Lucifer's embrace. Maybe he wouldn't even bother to go to school later.

But apparently that wasn't meant to happen. There were voices in the corridor, first relatively quiet, then loud and hectic. Within seconds, it broke into a tumult. People were running up and down the corridor, some of the girls were screaming and someone cried.

Lucifer made a disapproving sound in his throat and held on tighter to Sam, and although there was a voice in the back of his mind that told him to get up right now, that he shouldn't still be lying in bed with Lucifer like nothing was happening, he couldn't seem to move an inch. Why would he? Lucifer's body was too perfect wrapped around him. Anything else was unimportant.

Whatever was happening couldn't be too important and neither of them reacted to the chaos around them. Not until there was a familiar voice drowning out all the others in a furious scream.

“Downstairs, all of you! Now!”

Suddenly, Lucifer pushed Sam up so he was in a sitting position. Sam, still half asleep, watched with a slightly dizzy mind as Lucifer got dressed.

“We need to go.”

Sam blinked. It was like something was plugged from his ears, and now he was really awake. People were screaming. Why were they screaming?

He got up and dressed in no time, and followed Lucifer out of the room. Once they got there, there was no one left on the second floor, so they hurried up. What was happening? He had no idea what was going on. It reminded him of the first time when he had had a run-in with a police officer. He had been five. Dean and dad had both known what to do, had relied on him to play along, but Sam had just been too small to understand what he was supposed to do. He had been lost.

They weren't sitting in the dining hall, like they usually did when there was something to discuss. The teenagers were gathered in the hallway, looking up to where Abaddon was standing on the staircase Lucifer and Sam had yet to descend. Sam froze behind her on instinct, and he saw that Lucifer did the same. Neither of them dared to step into her sight.

“Do you have any idea,” she said in the tone of a wicked stepmother in a rage, “into how much trouble this gets me?” She paused, a moment in which no one even dared to breathe, before she hissed, “This is considered an assault. He could have died. If the police is investigating this, I'm going to find the one who did this, and they will wish they'd never been born. Do you understand?”

Whoever had done whatever, if it was Sam, he'd be more scared of her than of being arrested. He still didn't know what this was all about. Assault? Death? What was she talking about?

But as he let his eyes wander over the nodding teenagers in front of him, a shiver ran down his spine. One of them was missing. And judging from Lucifer's tension next to him, he had noticed it, too.

“Now, if anyone feels like turning themselves in and saving everyone else a few stressful days, go ahead.”

No one said anything. Sam still wished he'd know what exactly had happened, but he didn't dare to ask and nobody else did. After a long moment of the most uncomfortable silence Curee slowly raised his arm and pointed at... him.

“He wasn't in our room tonight.”

Everyone's eyes were on him. Again.

Abaddon turned on her heel and looked from Sam to Luce, but Curee was already pointing at Lucifer. “And he threatened Alastair after dinner.”

Sam was paralyzed. His mouth was hanging open, at a loss for words. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be helping his father commit crimes all his life, finally get away from that, only to be accused of an assault he didn't even know the details to.

When he finally felt like he was able to say something, Lucifer beat him to it.

“It was me.”

  


* * *

  


“Are you out of your mind?”

It was the third time that Sam was asking him this question. The more often he asked, the more Lucifer wondered about the truth of his answer.

“No, I'm protecting you.”

Granted, he could have searched for another way to get Sam out of this. But at the moment, it had been the best he could come up with. Like he'd pressed the panic button. A quick solution to prevent any more trouble for Sam. Lucifer had better chances of getting out of this somehow. It was always easier for him to settle things with Abaddon than it was for anybody else.

“But you're not guilty. Where's your sense of justice?”

Lucifer shook his head. “I'm working on it. Now go to school, Sam. You'll be late.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like everyone else, and you won't even go. Can she just keep you here like that? It'll be a while until they're back from the hospital and-”

Lucifer interrupted him with a kiss, a distraction to be able to gently shove him out of his room. “Go to school.”

“But...” It looked like Sam couldn't decide whether to look pleading or pissed, and the result was kind of adorable. “Fine. But promise me you'll still be here when I get back.”

“Of course.” Lucifer smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now off you go.”

With something that looked like an offended pout, Sam finally left.

He wasn't alone for long. Barely a minute after he was gone, Castiel strolled in.

“Jesus, Lucifer. Can't I leave you alone for one night? I thought you were getting laid, not attacking people.”

Lucifer scoffed. “I wasn't attacking anyone.”

Castiel took off his shirt and chose another one from the pile of clothes beneath his bed. “I thought as much,” he nodded. “Question is, who did?”

Lucifer rubbed his forehead. That was what he was thinking about all the time. His first thought had been that one of his people had taken the order to teach them a lesson too far. But how would they get explosives over night? And then, Azazel had been crying like a child who lost his brother. If anyone, he would have been the one to put a plan into practice this fast.

If it hadn't been Azazel, Lilith, Ruby, Meg, Castiel or Crowley, there weren't many possibilities left.

“Can you tell me what exactly happened?” Lucifer asked, only noticing from the corner of his eyes that Castiel put pills in his mouth again and swallowed them before he answered.

“Dunno. When I woke up, it had already happened. I guess he just went to his closet, opened it and... boom.” His eyes widened and he spread his fingers to resemble an explosion.

Lucifer nodded and watched as Castiel continued to get ready for school. He needed some fresh air, and the bench behind the building would have to do for now.

He couldn't go too far away. Turning himself in meant he had to wait here for Abaddon to come back from the hospital. She had followed Cain with her car once she had held her speech, and now Lucifer could only hope that the doctors wouldn't ask about the injuries.

It had looked awful. One of his hands had been completely blown off and the other was severely injured. It could be labeled as an accident, of course. Children playing with fire came to the hospital all the time. Children also didn't talk to the police. And they didn't want revenge. Fuck, he would be pissed once he woke up.

But why Alastair?

Lucifer watched from a few feet away as Castiel and Crowley stumbled out the back door and left for school, not without having another make out session. They were most likely the last to leave, so now Lucifer was alone. It was a strange feeling, so familiar yet suddenly unwelcome. He had changed. It was rather welcoming that other people's sexual interactions didn't bother him anymore, but everything that had once been a comforting routine for him was now missing something. Being alone wasn't satisfying anymore; it was dull and almost scary.

Except he wasn't alone.

“How does it feel for someone like you to take the blame for someone else? Did he really fuck you up that much?”

With gritted teeth, Lucifer turned his head to where Baldur was leaning casually against the wall, his school bag loosely hanging off his shoulder. Lucifer didn't know why he was still here and without his friends, but it could very well just be the satisfaction he got from seeing Lucifer wait for his sentence.

Taking that into account, it would only lead to more provocation if he answered him, so he remained silent and looked away. But Baldur wasn't so easily deterred.

“What, don't you wanna talk about the love of your life? I thought you'd be proud of him, now that you're both criminals.”

On a rational level, Lucifer knew he was doing it on purpose. Baldur knew that Lucifer would react to him talking shit about Sam. It had happened before. But rationality meant nothing when after all these weeks that Sam had softened him, the rage finally burnt its way through his soul again, rushing through his veins and causing him to stand up and walk towards the provoking asshole.

“Sam didn't do it,” he said in a cold voice, looking straight into Baldur's eyes. And there was something in them. Something that made Lucifer's gut turn even before the lips beneath formed into a cocky grin and said, “I know.”

He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer, his muscles twitching from the controlled motion. The other boy mirrored his movements and they met in the middle, only inches between them and never losing eye contact. Baldur's stare was cold and honest. The absolute truth of his statement sank in and Lucifer could hear the suppressed anger in his own voice as he spoke. “You're taking the injury of your new best friend very well, don't you think?”

And that fake, heartless, filthy little piece of crap really had the arrogance to laugh. “Alastair is almost as much of a useless fucker as you are. Funny thing is, he really believed we were going to befriend him.”

“When really...” Lucifer mumbled, his head tilted just a bit, “you were just using him to hurt Sam.”

“Don't worry,” Baldur chuckled, “I'm just as fine with hurting you inste-”

The moment he felt the pain from his fist hitting Baldur's temple, the head was already flying back and against the wall. Baldur collapsed, but Lucifer wasn't done yet. They would never stop. People, flawed and murderous as they were, would never be able to recognize real beauty when they saw it, to become aware of their own imperfection, to honor the great minds the way they deserved it. They would continue to work against them, to fight them out of jealousy and pride, and it wasn't just, and they would never. Stop.

And he couldn't, either.

He knelt over Baldur, ignored his screams and kept hitting him with both of his fists as hard as he could, again and again and harder with every punch, each one filled with more anger and frustration than the one before, faster and firmer the longer he went on, the jaw, the nose, the mouth, the cheeks. His muscles almost gave up, aching with every blow, his throat was hurting from Baldur's attempts to strangle him, but he just kept on hitting, kept hitting until the struggling stopped, the screaming died and the body below him went fully limp.

Arms fell from Lucifer's shoulders down to the floor. There was nothing, no sound or movement whatsoever except for his own rushing blood. He stared at the bloody face on the ground. The open mouth was crimson red. The eyes were closed. The dark hair was sticky with blood. And there was no movement.

He backed away, pushing himself against the wall. He was hoping to push the image away with it but instead he only chained himself to the barrier and forced his own eyes open, staring at the boy lying there motionless. He tried to look away but he couldn't focus on anything else; his eyes kept darting back to Baldur's body.

The boy was beautiful on the outside. He had dominant, dark brows and eyelashes and his skin was white, though not as white as his shirt. It was ruined now, of course. There was blood and dirt all over it. His nose was Greek but broken, slightly crooked to one side.

With a lump in his throat that felt like it wanted to suffocate him, finish what Baldur couldn't, Lucifer finally curled in on himself, rubbing his face with his palms and shielding his eyes from the sight. But when he smelled the blood on his hands, he had to get them as far away from him as possible. And even with his fingers buried into the grass, the smell was stuck in his nose.

Baldur still looked exactly the same.

He should be at school now, Lucifer thought. His eyes wandered down the body and to the bag lying next to his leg. He grabbed it, opened it and pulled out a book. Math. He'd miss his math lessons. Differential calculus, integration, vector algebra, logarithmic calculation. He was going to miss all of this. Lucifer skimmed over the chapters, trying to figure out what lesson he would have missed. It took him some time to realize that they were both missing the same one. Right, they were in the same class. Funny how Lucifer had never really thought about that before.

“Lucifer?”

There must have been some sort of bullying, like there always was. That should have drawn his attention. Maybe he had just been too in love with Sam to notice him. But now that he thought about it, it had probably been the second row seat at the window. He was pretty sure about that. He could remember some of his comments coming from this direction.

“Come on, you wouldn't dare to leave. I know you're here somewhere. Are you playing hide and seek?”

Then again, he hadn't gone to his math classes that often. The only classes he had skipped even more often were his PE classes and he hadn't even seen the teacher before he had started to attend school more regularly. With math, it was similar. That would explain why his memories weren't as clear. If he had only gone to school more often, he sure would have known without thinking about it.

“Lucifer?! You... Oh boy, what did you do?”

There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. And as Lucifer put down the book and looked up into a familiar woman's face, he realized he had made a big mistake.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Sometimes things happened so fast that it was hard to keep up with reality.

No matter how he looked at it, everything had simply happened too fast to catch up. Sam still didn't know how exactly he had gone from being crept out by Lucifer to being just as obsessed with him as Lucifer was with Sam. But only a few hours ago, he had been plain happy. Nothing around him had mattered but Lucifer's warm embrace.

Now there was only chaos.

“Keep quiet!” Cain shouted over the group of upset teenagers.

“No!” Curee stepped forward, shaking the man's arm. “Where's my brother? He said he'd follow us later but he never showed up at school. Where is he?”

Angry tears were building up in the boy's eyes, and he quickly swiped them off. Despite his grudge against Bald and his friends, Sam felt sorry for him. If it had been Dean suddenly disappearing at this age, Sam would have reacted just like that, maybe worse.

Cain freed his arm from Curee's grip and leaned down to him. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don't know!”

His shouting silenced them. None of them were used to the grumpy man. It was usually Abaddon interacting with them, and she was the one they were afraid of. But with his loud voice, Cain did a good job of earning their respect.

“Then where's your wife?” Curee's voice was less demanding than before, but Cain still stomped his feet.

“I won't answer any more questions! Go to your room, get come back for dinner in an hour.”

With that he walked off, leaving them all in the dark about what had happened while they had been at school.

“Come on,” Cas mumbled, and Sam had nothing better to do than to follow him upstairs into the so familiar room.

Crowley had come with them, and now all three of them were sitting on the beds. Nobody said anything for a long time. Castiel was wearing the same frown Sam suspected he'd see on his own face if he looked in a mirror, and Crowley sighed.

“Any of you up for a smoke?”

Castiel nodded. After a moment of hesitation, Sam followed suit.

Crowley opened the window and handed each of them a cigarette, lighting Castiel's and his own and then tossing the lighter to Sam. Before the smell of rain at night could fill the room, smoke numbed their noses and the night smelled like nothing at all. There was just the sound of the wind and the rain. As if nature itself was turning against them, it had started to storm in the early afternoon and by now if felt like the apocalypse had come upon them around these walls. Like the chaos inside needed any emphasis.

Sam put the cigarette between his lips and surprisingly managed to light it just fine, even though his hands were shaking. He also didn't cough because for some reason, the smoke wouldn't make it to his lungs. But just the action of pulling at the cigarette and breathing the smoke out again was relaxing.

Crowley shot him a look but didn't say anything. Neither did Cas.

“So...” Sam started with no real hope in his voice, “you don't know anything about where he could be?”

Cas shook his head and pressed his lips together. “No idea.”

Sam nodded and watched the cigarette between his fingers burn down. After another moment of silence, he said softly, “You don't think he's...”

He stopped, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Castiel put his already finished cigarette out and looked at him.

“I don't think it's anything to worry about. He'll be back for dinner.”

But his expression told Sam otherwise. The worried frown and the trace of fear in his eyes were too dominant for Sam to believe his words.

And Lucifer wasn't back for dinner.

  


* * *

  


Rain was crashing against the car's window. Lucifer tried to focus on something but there was nothing to see. Just blackness. Not even the moon was peeking through the clouds. From what he knew, they might as easily be driving through a void.

“You know you really fucked up this time, right?” Abaddon glanced at him quickly before she set her eyes on the street again.

Lucifer didn't answer. He traced what he could see of the raindrops rolling down the window with his eyes. There was a reflection on the water, coming from somewhere other than the car lights. He wanted to know the source.

“You're lucky that you're living with me, boy. In any other group home, you'd be sent to prison for a lifetime.” Lucifer turned his head to look at her.  _ _Maybe living with you is part of the reason why this happened at all__ , he thought.

“And you should be grateful that no one's gonna look for him. This could have ended badly.” Abaddon sighed. “Here I am, dealing with your shit.”

He still didn't say anything, so she added in a mumbling tone, “Could have at least helped me with the body...”

The body. It was buried in the woods now, somewhere far off from where they lived. The dirt was still sticking to his shoes, and there was a dark splotch on Abaddon's neck. It must have been mud. But in the dim light, Lucifer always saw blood when he looked to the left. It was all the same. Mud, blood, lipstick. All the same in the dark of the night.

They had buried someone in the woods.

 __Like them_ _ , Lucifer thought.  _ _Just like the people Sam ran_ _ __f_ _ __rom._ _

It had been an accident. He hadn't wanted to kill him. He'd hated him, he'd hated him most of all the people his age, he had never wanted to go through with  _killing_ someone. People weren't butterflies. He wouldn't just squash them, or at least he wouldn't plan to. It had been his anger taking control over him again, like a blind monster lashing out at whatever got in his way.

If only Sam had been there.

With Sam by his side, his anger just vanished. Like on the night Sam had taken drugs. Lucifer had been furious. First the stealing, then the discussion with Abaddon and to top it all, a drugged Sam. Lucifer knew himself. He should have punched every single person crossing his way. But he hadn't. Because Sam had been there.

Now Sam felt so far away.

And he was, in several ways. There were miles and miles between them. But that wasn't it. Sam wouldn't want to be with him anymore if he knew. He was already making enough excuses for him. The school-skipping, the fights with his roommates, the generally antisocial behavior, those things could be excused. That was the way Lucifer was, and whoever wanted to be close to him simply had to accept it.

But even for any other person, accepting that their loved one had taken somebody's life was too much. And with Sam, it was twice as worse. The reason why he was even in the group home was that he couldn't take his family mindlessly killing people, even if they had pretty good reasons to. And now Lucifer had killed someone with only a bad excuse of a reason. And with that, he'd sealed his own fate. Doing what Sam despised most was the worst thing he could have done. It was going to destroy everything.

Next to Lucifer, Abaddon cursed. “We're not going to make it back tonight. I'll rent us rooms in the next available motel.” Rooms, plural. So at least he wouldn't have to worry about that. He tried to appreciate the decency.

“Well, the storytelling will have to wait another day.” She smiled, but Lucifer's face remained still.

He wanted to lie. Wanted to keep everything under the cover Abaddon had made up: Lucifer had come to the hospital. Baldur had left the building on his own and hadn't come back. They'd gone looking for him. Around town, on the way to the next city, in cheap motels. No trace of him. They'd tell Henry and the police to watch out for him but who knew. He could already be tramping to another state.

That was the story they were going to tell. But he couldn't tell Sam this version of what had happened. He couldn't lie to him, under any circumstances. A long time ago, he had sworn never to lie to anyone he loved, and if there had ever been anyone outside his family that he truly loved, it was Sam.

Sam was his world now. He was giving him a purpose. A future. Something he could focus on other than hating everything and everyone around him.

He'd lose him.

Lucifer would lose Sam, of that he was sure. He wouldn't forgive him. Maybe understand, but not forgive. That one thing, he wouldn't be able to overlook.

The raindrops kept running down the window, one after another, meeting and losing each other on the surface, slowing down, speeding up, chasing each other in a beautifully chaotic pattern. When one of them reached the end, another one joined the game. They never stopped.

And in the darkness of the car, staring out the window, Lucifer's eyes filled with tears so heavy he thought he'd go blind from just the weight of them. His throat felt thick and his chest tight, but he held himself back and forced his muscles to relax.

He couldn't break. Not here. Not in front of her.

But when that single tear escaped from his eye and ran down his face, along his cheeks and nose and chin and not stopping there but only lingering for not so much as a second before it dripped down his neck and chest and finally, after a long journey, soaked into his shirt... That was the first time that he had cried in almost five years, and it was with the same woman in the room.

And before Lucifer could think back to that day, to the day it had finally ended, he blacked out against the window.

Had he thought that it had been dark before? Now the only thing he could see was pitch-black nothingness.

  


* * *

  


He was tapping his foot. One, two, three, four times. Again. One, two, three, four. Faster. One, two, three, four. Faster! One two three four, faster, one two three four, faster,  _onetwothreefour,_   _onetwothreefouronetwothreefouronetwothreefour-_

“Okay, would you please stop that?”

When he focused his eyes on Castiel, the boy with the greasy, dark hair was in his space, raising his eyebrows. “If anyone should be tapping their foot, it's me. There are no amphetamines in your system, I take it.” The last part was mumbled and difficult to hear over their teacher talking even from that short of a distance.

“I'm nervous,” Sam hissed back, turning his head away from Cas and keeping his eyes on the board even though he had no idea what the lesson even was about.

“Yeah, me too. I doubt sending sound waves with your feet as a new type of communication is going to help much, though.”

Sam let out a frustrated sigh, but the teacher was already addressing them, saving him from finding an answer snarky enough to shut up Cas.

“Gentlemen? Whatever you're discussing, I'm sure it can wait another thirty minutes.”

Cas smirked and nodded. Sam didn't.

That was just it. It couldn't wait for even five more minutes.

He bit his lip and tried to focus on his teacher's voice, hang onto it like a shipwrecked man to wooden plank, like it could somehow help him stay grounded. It worked, in a way. He couldn't make out the meaning of the words, could only seem to remember two or three of them in a row, but concentrating on the sound of the syllables helped him to get rid of his chaotic thoughts constructing an endless amount of scenarios about what had happened the day before, one more terrifying than the other.

Something in the back of his mind told him that he should be listening, really listening. That his finals were next week and he should get his head clear and focus on studying.

But how was he supposed to do that when his thinking was completely blocked? The only thing he could do was to pass the time until Lucifer would be back to ensure him that nothing bad had happened. Surely he would already be there when Sam would get home from school.

He would be there.

Sam was so sure he would.

But he wasn't. There was still no sign of him, Bald or Abaddon in the afternoon and the whole building was quieter than Sam had ever seen it.

In the evening, Castiel wordlessly took some of his clothes from under the bed and left the room.

Sam wanted to thank him or wish him a good night. But then again, they both knew it wouldn't be a good one, and the door fell shut before anything of the sort left his mouth.

He was alone.

  


* * *

  


“Leave me alone.”

Lucifer smacked the passenger door shut and walked in the opposite direction, away from Abaddon and her office. It was a small house next to the former hotel and Lucifer had hated it ever since he'd first set foot in it.

“Think about it, Lucifer. That's a problematic position you and your darling are in.”

The threat echoed in his ears and itched under his skin. He hated this. He hated people having power over him, especially her. And he hated what was to come.

Without another word, he went in the thankfully always open backdoor and through the dining hall. Even without turning on the lights he could see that the tables weren't cleaned. There were unfinished meals and dirty plates at almost every seat.

Chaos.

Lucifer shut his eyes. Maybe if he could block out the chaos around him, the one in his head would vanish as well. He just wanted to sleep. Think tomorrow. Right now he was too confused. Even his body couldn't decide whether he was sad, angry or scared, which resulted in bizarre gestures of helplessness as he climbed the stairs.

The past twenty-four hours had gone by surprisingly fast. They hadn't talked much, and Lucifer had gotten some rest, if not from his nightmares, then at least from her. And still, he wanted nothing more than to lock his room behind him and be as alone as possible for the night. Hopefully Castiel would already be asleep.

But Castiel wasn't the one waiting in his room. Lucifer stopped in the door frame when he found his bed already occupied. Something in his chest clenched tight as the dark hair moved on the white pillow and Sam sat up.

“Sam, what-”

“Where were you?!” Sam interrupted him, jumping to his feet.

The sheets fell to the ground and into the improvised ashtray, exposing Sam in only his underwear and a T-shirt. He looked bad. A bit like on his first day, tired and aggressive with furrowed brows and dark circles under his eyes.

Even more than the sight itself, Lucifer hated that he was the one responsible for it. And that he had to make it even worse.

He closed the door and got in, careful not to step too close to Sam. But his efforts were in vain because just a moment later, Sam's arms were wrapped around him in a tight embrace.

With mixed feelings, Lucifer put his arms around his shoulders in return and kissed his temple. Sam's body was still warm from the sheets against Lucifer's, but he didn't shy away from Lucifer's cold embrace. He just held on tighter and whispered little “I missed you”'s and “You're back”'s against his shoulder, like he wanted to warm him up from the inside.

Lucifer closed his eyes and savored the moment. The feeling of Sam's body so close to his, even when there was already a solid wedge between their minds, separating them. It was too good of an illusion. He could pretend that everything was normal, that he didn't know Sam already had a bad feeling and was just waiting for Lucifer to drop the bomb. He could pretend like there was no bomb at all.

Sam's hands ran along his spine, making Lucifer shiver. He pressed Sam even closer to him and rubbed his nose against his neck, breathing in his scent. He just wanted to dwell on this a little longer. Couldn't they stay like this forever? Regardless of what had happened the other day, couldn't they still be together?

They couldn't. That was why, when Sam repeated his question, Lucifer pushed him away gently and looked into his dark eyes filled with exasperation and confusion. He took a deep breath, trying not to shy away from Sam's gaze as he prepared himself to be as honest and direct as he could.

“Abaddon and I went away to bury Baldur.”

It was still a euphemism. They had gotten rid of his body somewhere in the mud of some giant forest. The hole they'd dug could barely be called a grave. It was only a means to an end, a necessity to cover up a murder. But Sam knew this procedure all too well; the euphemism implied all that and no carefully chosen words would stop the horror from building up inside of him.

Sam backed away immediately, letting go of Lucifer's waist and staring at him with his eyes wide in shock. “You...” He looked like he wanted to say more. His lips trembling, parting and closing again like he didn't know how to express himself. And when nothing more came out of Sam's mouth for several long seconds, Lucifer went on.

“I didn't mean to take his life. It was an accident.” His voice was surprisingly calm. He felt distant. Like he was watching a scene happen in front of him rather than being part of it. Like it wasn't him talking. Maybe this was the only way he could get through this conversation.

Sam still didn't say anything. He wasn't looking at Lucifer anymore. Instead, he was staring down to the ground, breathing heavily, and pushing himself back against the window. Away from Lucifer. It hurt to see him like this, ten times more than he had imagined, and this had already been bad when it had just been a fantasy in his head. Lucifer swallowed.

“Sammy...”

“Don't call me that.”

Sam had verbally slapped him in the face. Lucifer had never heard this cold tone in his voice, not even in their first conversations. Something inside him broke.

“Why does everyone I love turn out to be a killer?” Sam's nose twitched in an angry huff. He looked so hurt, so desperate, that Lucifer needed to stop himself from pulling him to his chest and kissing his forehead soothingly. Sam didn't want that anymore, even when he had been so in love and so fascinated with him. _'_ _Maybe you're_ _just_ _drawn to it,_ _'_ Lucifer thought. Maybe Sam had some sort of affinity to a specific type of people. The fucked up, overemotional, morally confused people. If it wasn't for Sam, Lucifer wouldn't have that much of a guilty conscious. He hadn't planned to kill Baldur. He was shocked and confused and messed up because it was  _him_  who had beat him to death. But still, he couldn't help thinking that Baldur deserved it.

Lucifer knew that he had nothing left to lose. The only thing he could do was to try to explain himself. “There's something you don't understand.” He paused and waited for Sam to look at him. He didn't, so Lucifer went on. “Everyone is a killer under the right circumstances. Human minds are fragile. They can get messed up; emotion can overpower rational thought and be an unwanted mainspring to unplanned deeds. There are moments in which you're too helpless to think. There... are people who deserve this destructive force. And sometimes there's only one decision to make. You either turn your anger against others or against yourself.”

There was silence for a short moment. When Sam looked up at him, his eyes looked dead. “Well, maybe you should have done the latter, Lucifer.”

And then he just walked past Lucifer and out of his room before Lucifer had even told him the cause of his anger. He didn't try to stop him because it was no use. Sam was gone, if not forever then at least for some time. Suddenly, there were only ash-dirty sheets and cold night air in the small room.

He could hear a silenced sob from the corridor and needed to close the door. Before he had even reached out, wind blew in and slammed it shut with a loud noise. Then he couldn't hear anything. He slid down the door and to the floor, burying his head between his knees.

The talk with Sam had come earlier than he had expected. It had also been less of a talk than he had expected. But the outcome was still the same. No surprise there.

Maybe Sam would never know why Lucifer had lost control.

But maybe he didn't need to know.

  


* * *

  


“Welcome back, traitor,” were the words with which Sam was greeted in the morning. He looked up and saw Adam pointedly adjusting his shirt instead of looking at Sam.

He lazily opened his mouth to say something, but it fell shut again. He really had no right to argue with Adam, Curee or any of their friends. After all, they had been right.

“Is he back? Are they back, Sam? Where's my brother?” The boy's voice was just a whisper, coming from the bed across the room where Curee was wrapped in his sheets.

Sam said nothing. He wouldn't be the one to say the words that would make the child's world collapse and turn into a post-apocalyptic version of Detroit. He wouldn't be the one to tell anybody about what Lucifer had done, even if he needed to justify that choice to himself. Anyway, he'd never really had anything to do with Curee and frankly, he had his own problems to worry about.

So he just went to the bathroom, took a shower that was not nearly as refreshing as he had hoped and got ready for school.

The school day went by more easily than he had expected. The routines of other people helped him. Seeing teenagers gossip about each other's clothes, joke around and panic because they hadn't studied yet was soothing. It was like nothing unusual had happened. When he was among them, he could pretend it really hadn't.

Except for one person.

“'Something happen last night?”

Castiel was looking him up and down with raised eyebrows, the underlying question clear in his eyes.

Sam took a deep breath. “He's back,” he said through clenched teeth, averting Castiel's gaze.

“Hm.” Cas nodded. “And?”

“And nothing.” He closed his eyes for a second. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Cas nodded again, seemingly disinterested, but Sam saw his mind working before he finally pulled out a big bottle of water and a box of pills he held out to Sam under the table.

“Want one? Makes everything better... but you already know that.” He grinned, and now Sam recognized the colorful pills.

For a moment, he was tempted. It had felt good. Being happy and content without any real reason to be. But... “No, thanks.”

Castiel shrugged and swallowed one before he put the box away again.

Sam didn't need to be happy. He needed to concentrate. All he wanted now was to get through his finals and finish the year. Then he could decide if he wanted to stay or run away again, to some place where he could safely concentrate on his SATs.

Stanford. That was what he wanted. That was what he still got. No matter how many people hurt him, how many plans for a future together got destroyed; for his career, he only needed to depend on himself. And that want was what kept him motivated through this Friday before finals would start on Monday.

Pretending to be normal turned out to be a fairly good tactic. Now that he wanted to forget about Lucifer, he found himself very able to follow the discussions in class and even participate like he'd used to before Lucifer had come into his life. He survived period after period and teacher after teacher, fooling himself into believing his finals were his only worries.

Finishing the year with good marks. That was his goal. He needed to study. And if other people could help him forget about Lucifer for a second...

He looked at Cas, who had his eyes closed and moved his shoulder blades and hands in small, somewhat floating movements. No, he reminded him too much of Lucifer. And knowing the way he worked on group projects without communication or any form of social interaction, Cas probably wouldn't be the right person to study with anyway.

So Sam turned around as soon as their last lesson was over. Sarah was finishing some of her notes, looking back and forth between the board and her notebook.

“Hey,” Sam started, hoping that his voice sounded friendlier to her than it had in his head.

“Hm?” Sarah didn't look at him, eager to copy everything before the board was cleaned.

“I've got it all,” Sam interrupted, stepping closer. “Would you like to study together? Over the weekend?”

She didn't stop writing. So Sam tried again.

“Hey, you don't have to hurry. I copied everything.”

Now she did put down her pen and looked at him in... annoyance?

“Sorry, Sam. I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want your boyfriend to be mad at me.”

“What?” Sam asked, feeling strangely uncomfortable with the term. _ _Boyfriend__ _._ They had never been boyfriends. That concept was far too simple for them. There was so much more to them, things a word as simple as that couldn't cover, they were... had been... more. Sam bit his lip.

“Yes, he made it very clear that he doesn't want me to be around you.” Sarah finished the last of her notes and packed her bag without looking at Sam.

“Wait.” Sam grabbed her arm and stopped her from leaving. She looked down at where he held her, then up at him with raised eyebrows, so he let go of her.

“How do you even know him? What did he do?”

“Why don't you ask him yourself?” With a forced smile, Sarah put the bag over her shoulder and walked away. Sam let her, but looked after her with furrowed eyebrows.

Sarah knew Lucifer. More importantly, Lucifer knew Sarah.

One by one, Sam connected the dots. The stalking had obviously gone on even after Lucifer had promised not to follow Sam anymore. Had he threatened Sarah just because they had gone out together? On a date Sam hadn't even enjoyed because Lucifer had been on his mind?

It was like whatever had previously made him believe in Lucifer was gone now. Sam could see his real self again. Lucifer the stalker. Lucifer the blackmailer. Lucifer the killer.

He was angry. Too angry to remember Chuck and Risa, two perfect potential study partners, as he stomped out the classroom and into the school's library.

So he would have to study alone. That was how it was supposed to be anyway.

  


* * *

  


The nightmares didn't stop. Lucifer had thought it was a temporary thing on the night he was forced to spend in a motel with Abaddon. But it wasn't. He couldn't sleep for longer than an hour. And yet he was so tired.

He didn't leave his room. Just tried to stay asleep forever. How much he wished for a dreamless, endless sleep. But he wouldn't get that. Just one bizarre horror show after the other.

This time, he was on some kind of stage. He looked around, saw all these people staring at him and wanted to close his eyes, but he didn't have eyelids. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. His body moved on its own, led by strings on his hands and legs, and when he looked up, they were all above him, long and loud and laughing, playing with their puppet. Abaddon, Michael, and... his father had no face.

His head was pushed down violently so he was facing the audience again. Then there was music, lights, and other puppets. They had buttons for eyes and loose threads were coming out of their heads, but they were laughing too, dancing around him. Lucifer couldn't do anything to stop himself from attacking them, and that was when he saw the scissors in his hands. He was swung through the air and crashed scissors first into another puppet, ripping it open. Then another one, and yet another puppet hit the ground.

The laughter became louder and louder, and then suddenly the spotlight wasn't on him anymore. It was on someone in the audience. Sam looked at him with disgust, ripped his ticket in half and left the theater. Lucifer wanted to shout after him but nothing came out, he was trapped in a marionette. And only when the lights went out, he could hear himself scream.

There was no theater. Only a small room smelling like cold ash. He touched his face. It was wet. Again. He had cried again, like a child.

Lucifer carelessly wiped his face dry with his shirt and opened all three boxes on the floor. Empty. There were no cigarettes left.

He sighed and opened the window. The midday sun was dazzling him and he needed to close his eyes. He didn't know how long he just stood there and felt the burning heat of the sun on his skin, then the absence of that very heat when the star was covered by a cloud.

When the first raindrops hit his skin, he mistook them for needles and winced. But once his eyes were open and he could see what was really falling down from the sky, he sighed contentedly. Putting his arms into the air, he climbed onto the roof in just his underwear and let his feet dangle off the edge.

The cloud hanging over the building was dark gray and purple, there was thunder in the distance and the warm rain felt cold on his skin with the wind whirling around him. It was good, though. He was being cleaned.

He looked down at the world beneath him. He wasn't far up, but far enough to feel the distance. There were familiar faces. Small figures, ants returning to their hill. But it felt all so far away. Further than it ever had. What were people even doing with their lives? It was all nothing.

Lightning illuminated the dark sky and made Lucifer feel strangely powerful. Why couldn't he be lightning? Crush down on earth in a mighty and beautiful blast, just for a second, but a second of importance. Why couldn't Sam be his thunder?

The sun was shining through the clouds again, big and bright, too bright for Lucifer's eyes, but he couldn't look away. He wanted the wind to take him there. Take him to the sun.

He opened his arms and leaned over just a few inches when...

“Sorry, but I don't think fallen angels can fly.”

Hands were gripping his shoulders and pulling him back. Lucifer frowned, blinked, looked down and realized how easily he could have fallen if Castiel hadn't caught him.

“Come on now, Morningstar.”

Lucifer let himself be helped back into the room and sat down on his bed regardless of the water dripping from his wet body. Castiel looked him up and down with a slight frown on his face.

“You're lucky Baldur isn't here. He would have given you so much shit for that.”

There was some uncomfortable silence. Lucifer knew what was going to come.

“Where is he?”

He didn't answer. He watched the drops of water fall down from his skin and soak into his sheets. Castiel's eyes were on him, Lucifer could feel his stare like he had felt the stares of the audience in his dream. And he waited for an answer, so long that Lucifer almost forgot he was still standing right in front of him. He just kept his eyes fixed on his lap and stayed in this position, almost afraid to breathe.

After minutes and minutes, Castiel finally moved.

“I see.” His voice wasn't judging, but it wasn't sympathetic either. Lucifer gritted his teeth.

“You know what I think, Lucifer?” Castiel said, already at the door. “I think you need help.”

And with these words, the junkie left him alone again.

And there would be nothing else for hours until late in the evening there would be a knock at his door and a woman's voice would ask for him.

  


* * *

  


After hours of studying, Sam felt like he could write his own book about American history. He had already known everything important before, the studying was just to make him feel prepared. And to distract him.

Closing his book, he wondered what else he should do today. Reading was something he had already given up on. He had tried reading a novella as a break from history, but all it had done was to remind him of Lucifer and what they used to read. So it was just studying for him. He had hoped to be occupied for a few hours more, but it wasn't even six o'clock. He could still be home for dinner.

Sam looked out the window. Rain. Why couldn't the weather be more cooperative with his plan to pretend? He sighed, packed his stuff and set off.

He didn't have an umbrella. When he thought about it, he wasn't sure if anyone living at Abaddon's place even owned one. Now he only wished he was wearing his hoodie, but alas. The rain was pelting his skin in seconds, soaking through the thin fabric of his button-down.

It was cold, it was wet, it was anything but comfortable. But despite his wet clothes and the wind around him, Sam didn't run. Maybe he even walked more slowly than ever. Why would he want to get there fast? He didn't even know where to sit. No one really liked him anymore, except maybe for Castiel. And someone else needed Cas.

His first wave of anger was gone by now. He was mostly disappointed, shocked and, against his own will, worried. He still couldn't believe what had happened. It didn't seem real. Was Bald really dead? He couldn't be. He was that homophobic asshole that Sam didn't see for a few days, but that always came back to tease him some more. He was that handsome guy who could treat everyone like shit and still be liked.

And Lucifer... Sam didn't know what to think. His image of him had been scattered to pieces one time too often. He couldn't rebuild it. Who was this boy with an absent father and a twisted mind? There were two images in Sam's head when he thought of him. One showed Lucifer with hatred in his eyes and a pile of dead bodies around him. The Lucifer he feared, the Lucifer he had wanted to forget.

But Lucifer was also intelligence, imagination and a will to fight for what he believed in. And so much love. Unwanted love. Sam had wanted it. His heart ached when he thought back to their last day together. Or back to their first kiss. Their first long conversation about Nietzsche, of all people. It ached and it hurt and he just wanted to run back to him, tell him it was alright and ask him to start a new life somewhere else.

Then he thought about Baldur and that he was  _gone_ , that Lucifer was the one who took his life. Sam had underestimated him. He had thought that all that hatred, all that dark and dangerous appearance, that it was all for show. Something to help him get by, something he did because he had had bad experiences and needed to keep himself safe. Sam had thought that he could help him learn to trust, others as well as himself. And for some time it had worked, right?

But it seemed like Lucifer was just another psychopath after all. Like his dad, like his brother, with a wrong sense of morality and nothing holding him back from violating others.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't love someone who had it in them to kill. But he couldn't hate him, either, and he was worried sick about the consequences of his deeds. Lucifer couldn't end up in jail, or in a closed institution because he couldn't deal with what he had done after all. Sam didn't want him to. But he didn't want to be around him either.

What was he going to do?

His hair was sticking to his forehead when he arrived at Abaddon's door, raindrops falling to his nose and cheeks. He was going to be ill.

Dinner was almost over when Sam came in. Anna, Jo and Kali were already standing up. Kali. Sam wondered how she was doing. If she was in a lot of pain, she didn't show it. Her expression was as unreadable as ever. He looked around, but Lucifer was nowhere to be seen.

Sam managed to get some bread and vegetables without having to talk to anyone and took them with him to his room. He gobbled it all down in a hurry and took a warm shower, or as warm as the water ever got in the evening. It didn't help.

When he snuggled up in his bed in some fresh clothes, tired and melancholic and about to pass out, he wasn't alone for long.

“There you are,” Adam said, sounding extremely unfriendly, and Sam wondered why he kept talking to him at all. “You missed Abaddon's speech.”

Sam shrugged. “Was it interesting?”

“Ask Curee.” Adam snorted bitterly and took his clothes off for the night. “He's still down there with Anna.”

“With Anna?”

“Yes, she's the only one who's willing to comfort him. Looks like Bald's not coming back.”

The suspicious tone was all but justified, even if Adam probably didn't know how much. Sam didn't know what to say. ' _ _I know'__ didn't seem to be a good idea.

“You boyfriend” -  _boyfriend -_ “wasn't there, either. At the speech, I mean. He _is_ back.” Adam laughed humorlessly. “Nice show he gave us. Although I must say, he didn't look too well. Trouble in paradise?”

Sam flinched under his blanket. “Shut up, Adam.”

“Uh, okay.” Adam lay down in bed and kept on getting on Sam's nerves. “Just saying, he looked completely out of his mind. Sitting on the roof half-naked, like he was about to jump. What did you do, hide his lipstick?”

Sam nearly jumped at the word _jump_. He was what? Lucifer couldn't be suicidal now, could he? That had just been some crazy misinterpreted project or something. It must have turned out to be a misunderstanding, or Adam wouldn't dare to joke about it. Or would he?

Sam got angry. This wasn't a topic to ever joke or tease someone about. So he and Adam hadn't gotten along too well, but joking about suicide attempts? That was low, even for Adam. There was no one to impress here. No one he needed to be cool in front of, and if Sam wasn't completely wrong, Adam had only ever teased him to be acknowledged by Bald, so why was he doing it now?

He was about to scream and shout at Adam for being such an asshole to him even now. And then he got it.

Adam had lost a friend, too. This was his way of coping and warming up to Sam again.

“Good night, Adam,” Sam said and turned the lights off. Adam mumbled something in return, grimly but not really unfriendly.

Sam couldn't sleep. He needed to know if Lucifer was okay, preferably without him finding out that he was checking up on him.

When he heard Adam snore, he stood up and walked the familiar path to Lucifer's room. He grasped the doorknob and opened it as carefully as possible, trying not to wake whoever was inside.

But there was no one. Neither Cas nor Lucifer were in their beds. The room was empty.

Sam frowned. Castiel was most likely with Crowley, now that Alastair wasn't holding him back, but where the hell was Lucifer?

He must have stood there for some time, because suddenly he heard whispers behind him, coming from the stairs. He closed the door and went back to his room, just in time to see a small boy with a hanging head walk into their room.

Anna gave him a sad smile, and they all went back to their respective rooms. Everyone except for Lucifer.

  


* * *

  


“Aaah. Perfect.” Abaddon let out a content sigh. “Although you used to be much gentler.”

As soon as Lucifer saw her lazy smile, he drew his hand away harshly. He grimaced in disgust and turned away, stretching his right arm away from him stiffly like it wasn't a part of his body anymore. His legs were shaking but he was almost at the door, only thinking of getting out of this place, when Abaddon spoke up again.

“Uh-uh.”

He froze, tension in his whole body from his gritted teeth to his rigid limbs, and he heard Abaddon close her zipper and stand up from the couch.

“No gentleman just goes without a goodbye kiss.”

Lucifer snorted angrily. “Fuck you.”

She was around him and on his lips before he could escape, catching him midstep and pulling him in. For a second, there was nothing. Just the feeling of something unspecific on his lips that could just as well be a pen or a glass. Like his mind needed a moment to process.

Then everything started rolling before his eyes, image after image, unwanted good night kisses, shushing fingers on his lips, groping hands on his hips, a tasting tongue on his thigh, useless struggling, weird tingling, bad explanations, sharp nails, hot breath, wet skin, hair pulling, dampness, red red red-

“Stop!”

He pushed her away as hard as he could, simultaneously jumping back. He was breathing heavily through his teeth, tears in his eyes and sweat on his skin, and stared at the woman on the floor.

“We definitely need to work on that,” she mumbled grimly as she rubbed her elbows.

“We definitely don't,” Lucifer hissed back, trying not to let the fear show in his voice. “I said you can't touch me, and that's it.”

“Hmm.” Abaddon got up again and said casually, “Keep in mind that Baldur's body could show up any day. And I could still pin that little accident with Alastair on Sammy.”

Lucifer gritted his teeth. “Don't call him that. Ever.”

But he knew she was right. Although she technically was a criminal herself, he couldn't be sure. Couldn't be sure she wouldn't find some way to keep a low profile while turning them in. It wasn't worth the risk, especially not with Sam. He hadn't done anything.

There was no other way.

“Why don't you run away with Sam?” Abaddon gave him a devilish smile. “Unless...” She pouted mockingly. “... he doesn't want to, of course. In this case you remain my sweet, little devil.”

Lucifer flinched. She had no right to speak to him like that. No right to... He clenched his fists, shook his head and stomped past her and out of the office.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Lucifer emptied his stomach on the unmown grass. He knelt down and tried to catch his breath, choking again without anything coming out of his mouth.

Clenching his fists tight, he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out, either. Just silent suffering, and at least a satisfactory strain in every muscle until he couldn't hold it anymore and collapsed.

Even through the bitter taste of his puke, he could still taste her on his tongue, feel her on his lips, and he wanted to puke again. But nothing came, and he rubbed his lips again and again, hoping to wipe off the red lipstick that he knew must be there.

When he stopped to look at his hands, there was not only lipstick but also blood. He darted his tongue out and tasted the metallic liquid. This was good. Or at least better than anything else.

The night air helped him clear his head again. He couldn't believe he was really doing this. This was already the second time, after their talk the night before. He had never wanted to touch that woman again, and yet... but he did it for Sam. And there was no way he could stop and endanger him.

Lucifer stood up after what felt like an eternity, standing on shaky legs and slowly walking the few feet to his home. He needed to forget. He desperately needed to.

When he walked into the basement, there were only Ruby, Azazel, Lilith, Meg and Bela. Castiel and his lover were God knew where, and Lucifer was thankful for that. He didn't want to talk to Castiel. He wanted him to talk about _this_. And Lucifer really couldn't do that.

“Wow, you look like shit,” Meg said, and if their relationship hadn't changed to some kind of friendship in the past few weeks, Lucifer wouldn't just have ignored the comment. Meg and Ruby looked worried, and Azazel even moved closer to Ruby, making space for him on the couch.

But didn't want company. He just needed something strong now. He was too aware. Too aware of everything that was happening. So he poured himself a whiskey and sat down with it at the bar, alone. The others were talking behind him on the couches, but he didn't listen to what they were saying.

He felt like shit. Really.

He would have guessed everything would return to the way it was before. Before Sam. But it hadn't. Or at least it didn't feel like it. It felt worse, so much worse, because now he knew what he could have had if he hadn't fucked it up. If he wasn't so fucked up.

Sam really had changed him. He hadn't noticed it as much when they had still been together, but Lucifer had formed dreams, quietly and carefully in the back of his mind, without even knowing that he was doing it. He had hoped for a better future. Something he hadn't dared to do in a long time. Naive hopes and dreams that had now crumbled to pieces.

He was no longer content with hating everyone around him and living his life in ideas rather than actions. It was killing him, eating him up from the inside out, hollowing out his body until there would be nothing left inside.

He thought about what Sam had said about him fooling other people. Pretending to be something he wasn't. Maybe Sam was right. He had always acted like a tough guy because it was easier. Then Sam had given him the strength to be more like himself. And then he had left him. Now he was nothing.

Lucifer couldn't live without Sam anymore. He knew he, or at least some part of him, would die without him.

His glass was empty. He refilled it.

There was an unlit candle on the bar. Lucifer took the nearest lighter and lit it. The small spark turned into a fragile gas flame. Then it passed over to the more resistant candle and grew steady. Lucifer watched it warm the wax, making it drop down.

This whole Sam thing had just grown over his head. It had been okay when it had just been an obsession. Unfulfilling, but okay. Not hurting. Giving him something to do.

Now Sam wasn't this abstract idea anymore. Not just some boy Lucifer had felt entitled to possess. Not just  _someone_ destined to complete him. How stupid the thought had been.

No, Lucifer had to go and really fall in love with him. Get to know him. Not just gather information blindly, but really get to know him. Know about his facial expressions and the situations he uses them in. Know about his smile, and how to trigger it. His frowning face. His thinking face. His bitchface, when Lucifer was jokingly mocking him. And, of course, the face that was so full of love Lucifer always had a hard time believing it was directed at him.

He knew the scent of his hair, the taste of his lips, the sound of his moans, the texture of his moles, the feeling of his hands intertwined with his, the complexity of his thoughts, the steadfastness of his sense of justice, the ability to understand, so valuable yet so rare.

“What have you done to me...” Lucifer mumbled to himself, ignoring the silence behind him that followed.

Another glass, and he downed it.

All of this was no more than a memory. He would never make Sam smile again. Never be the one that loving look was directed at. He wouldn't even get to see his bitchy face again. All gone, because of one stupid mistake. One mistake to fuck up his life even more. Who would have guessed.

Lucifer looked at his reflection in the dirty mirror behind the bar. Meg was right. He really did look like shit. His hair was a mess, his skin was dirty and sweaty, his eyes were dark and tired, his lips swollen and ripped up and he must smell of puke and cheap perfume. But no red on his lips. It was all right as long as there was no red on his lips.

More alcohol. Down.

His vision was starting to blur. Good. So he wouldn't have to look at himself anymore. He looked around and felt his head spin. Rubbing his eyes, he stared blindly at the jukebox. Someone was playing a tape. He listened. Metallica. He chuckled. Like on the day he had met Sam. Funny coincidence.

Next to the recorder, Lilith was sitting on the floor, playing with something. It looked like a destroyed tape, with the thin plastic pulled out of the cassette entirely. She seemed to have fun.

He still wasn't drunk enough. He could still think.

Some of the whiskey spilled over his hand as he filled his glass yet again. It felt good. The alcohol was cleansing, similar to the rain on the roof, if not as pure. So he took the bottle in his left hand and poured some of the liquor over his right, until it was covered completely. It burnt on his palm where his nails had dug in and Lucifer smiled, and held the soaked flesh into the flame of the candle.

It got very hot for a second. Not extremely painful, but burning hot, with a flash of light and flames eating at his skin. But apparently the alcohol wasn't strong enough because the fire died before it could really hurt Lucifer, and he sighed.

“Holy shit,” he heard Ruby whisper.

“Lucifer?” Meg was suddenly right behind him, carefully taking the candle and the alcohol away from him. Rude.

“Are you okay?”

Lucifer laughed. It really was a funny question. Of course, he was okay! Really okay. Totally okay.

“Do you want me to get you something? Anything?”

Yeah, Sam would be nice. Lucifer could use a Sam. He could make it all go away again with his stupidly beautiful smile and his disgustingly gentle kisses.

“No,” Lucifer replied instead, looking down at her hands. “Ex...cept for my drink. My drink, Meg.” He reached for it wordlessly.

“Yeah, well... I think you've had enough.”

Lucifer shook his head. “No, I don't. Didn't. Haven't.”

Meg sighed and sat down next to him, forcing him to focus on her. “Listen...” she said softly, “you know what we talked about the other day, right?”

He tried really hard to remember. Meg. Meg was a relatively nice girl. She liked rock music. And leather jackets. That was all Lucifer could remember. “No.”

She stared at him, looking as frustrated as a stage actor in the golden age of television. “About me and Bela?”

Ah, yes. Meg and Bela. “You like her,” Lucifer mumbled, trying to get his drink back. She hid it behind her back.

“Yes... And I want to leave this craphole with her.”

Lucifer nodded. Right. They were... leaving.

Meg was now whispering, so Lucifer had to lean in to understand what she was saying. “Bela organized a car. We'll be gone at sunrise. Except...”

She stopped talking. Lucifer waited, but there was only silence. “Yeah,” he prompted, “except what?”

“Except if you didn't want me to go, of course.”

Lucifer frowned. “You already asked me, right?” he slurred.

“Yes,” Meg explained, “but that was before... I was just wondering if you needed any... help.”

She looked even a bit embarrassed to ask such a question. And she should. He chuckled. “Oh Meggie, do I look like I need help?”

He didn't like the look she gave him, but he waved her off anyway. “I'm good. Fine. You go... rob banks together or something.”

Some part of him knew that he was really... well, drunk. Not behaving like himself, not even talking like himself, and if he had any rational thought left in his brain, this would have been the moment he should have gone to bed. But he didn't.

“Do me a favor, Meg, and live a happy life for me, okay?” He patted her shoulder, got the bottle from behind her back and turned away. Leaving the basement, he waved her goodbye without looking back.

“Eh, sure,” she shouted after him, “goodbye, Luc-”

The door fell shut. Lucifer took another sip of his drink and gagged. For a moment he thought he needed to puke again. But the moment passed, and he made his way upstairs, feeling the alcohol roll around in his empty stomach with every step he took.

He stopped at Sam's door. Not only Sam's. Adam's and Curee's door. Baldur's door. He chuckled. Fuck Baldur for getting him into this mess. Fuck him.

With a last gulp, he emptied the bottle and put it down on the floor. Then he knocked. And waited. There was some whispering, and then Adam opened the door. When he saw him, his expression darkened as he looked him up and down.

“What do _you_ want?”

Lucifer gave him his most friendly smile. “Let me talk to Sam, please.”

Adam didn't answer. He just stared at him with an unfriendly frown, a deafening silence between them. But then...

“It's okay.”

Sam.

The first thing he saw of him was his hand, pulling the door further open. And then there he was, already in his nightwear, pushing past Adam. Lucifer didn't look at him anymore, just noticed that the door was being closed behind Sam.

There was silence.

“So?” Sam asked.

“So?” Lucifer echoed. He was too occupied with taking in every detail of Sam's appearance, from his tousled hair to his bare feet, to be aware of Sam's expectation for him to say something.

Sam shrugged. “Do you have anything to say to me?” He narrowed his eyes, looking from Lucifer to the empty bottle on the floor and back to him. “Are you drunk?”

Lucifer didn't confirm or deny the latter. “About what?” his mouth said, before his brain could catch up.

Sam laughed bitterly. “About what... Well, how about Baldur? How about Sarah?”

“Sarah?” Lucifer frowned in confusion. “What about Sarah?”

There was disappointment in Sam's eyes. Why?

“Do you really not know what I'm talking about? Well, maybe you don't remember threatening her. Easy to forget in between murder and stalking, I guess.”

Oh, that. Lucifer shook his head. “That was nothing, Sam. She wouldn't have been good to you.”

“How do you know?” Sam stepped closer to him, raising his voice. “How would you ever know, if you destroy everything that could have been? You really just want me for yourself, don't you?”

Lucifer stared at him. “Yes,” he said slowly, “because other people are bad, Sam.”

“Bad?” Sam scoffed. “Like Baldur was bad?” He paused, and his stare was almost too painful to stand. “Who's the bad guy here, Lucifer?”

It hurt to hear Sam say his name in this tone. Without any love, just blame and anger. Lucifer's eyebrows met in a sad frown. “Sam...” he began, looking at him intensely. And then it all just blurted out in one go.

“What happened with Baldur wasn't planned. I told you, it was an accident. No, no, I know what you're about to say. Something like that doesn't happen accidentally. I know. It's just... all that anger, it's hard to control. You know, Sam.” He sighed, looking to the spinning ceiling helplessly. “I thought I was free. Free to...” There was a short pause. It was difficult to keep his thought together. ”... choose what I want to be.” The ceiling looked like it was about to devour him, and he let his gaze drop again and focused on Sam. “But I'm not. I'm not free, Sam. My father and Michael, they... did something to me. And then... then...” He stopped. He wanted to tell him about Abaddon. But even with all the alcohol, he couldn't talk. His lips just wouldn't form the words.

After a while of silent staring, Sam shook his head sadly. “Sorry, Luce. Your tragic back story doesn't justify what you've done. You...” He hesitated, then swallowed and said more firmly, “You should be locked up.”

Lucifer had always mocked these romantic, melodramatic people talking about their 'heart breaking'. But in this moment, he knew exactly what they were talking about. It felt like something inside him was cut in two by Sam's words. The two halves broke and fell to the ground, leaving him empty and hurt.

“I am,” he finally answered, his voice shaky and his vision blurring again. “I am locked up, just like I was before you came into my life. I thought you'd freed me... But for some reason you just want to bury me deeper.”

Sam frowned. “What? What are you even saying?”

Lucifer wanted to explain, but there was something in his throat blocking the way. He couldn't talk.

“Look, you did what you did and you can't change it. As much as I sometimes wish you could...” For a brief moment, his expression was sympathetic, sad instead of angry. “You can't.” He shifted and put his hand on the door knob. “Good night, Lucifer.”

Lucifer knew that it would be no use to try to hold him back, or to ever try to get close to him again. He was gone. And so was the part of Lucifer he had formed.

  


* * *

  


Going on wasn't as hard as Sam had initially thought. In the following days, he and Adam formed some sort of symbiotic friendship.

The house was emptier than ever. With Bela and Meg suddenly leaving over night, there were only ten of them left. The girls stayed among themselves, with Curee at Anna's side more often than not. Ruby, Lilith and Azazel stayed together, too, and Ruby's expression was getting darker every day. But none of them talked much. It was always quiet, a miserable silence, and just like Abaddon, the children ignored the absence of four of their housemates.

Adam's and Jo's romance was ended because Adam rarely talked, and if he did, what he said was always negative and bitter. Much like Sam, who preferred not to talk at all. So they sat on their beds all day, silently studying for their finals, and shared a table during meal times. Somehow it was easier to behave this way when they did it together.

Sam didn't see Lucifer much. He didn't eat with the others, though Sam caught a glance of him once when he brought his empty plate back to the kitchen and saw Lucifer snatch some of the leftovers. They had looked at each other for only a second, before Lucifer had vanished upstairs again. Castiel, it seemed, had moved to Crowley's and Azazel's room and at this point, Sam didn't really care. If Lucifer locked himself up in his room or the basement or wherever he was all day, it was his own fault.

He was still angry. Because on top of everything else, Lucifer showed no regret. Was even going so far as to imply some kind of determination. Well, Sam's family was fucked up too, and he wasn't going around murdering people.

When he had showed up drunk at Sam's door in the middle of the night, Sam should have known it wouldn't end well. But some part of him had longed to see Lucifer, if only to know that he was alright. Like the day before, when he had checked his room and found nothing. But everything Lucifer had said, every word coming out of his mouth, had only made him angrier.

Now he needed to cool off. Distract himself, not think about Lucifer.

In between several lonely hours accompanied only by dark thoughts and unpleasant feelings, Sam got more than prepared for his finals, and then managed to write one fairly good exam after the other. He just needed to keep his thoughts away from his near future and his recent past. If he only lived for the next exam, he could do it.

On Thursday, after his math exam, a teacher stopped him before he could leave school.

“Mister Simmons? That's your name, right?”

It took a few seconds for Sam to remember that this was indeed his name here. Then he turned around, regarding the young woman. He had seen her before, she was the one who sometimes wore merchandise shirts to school. Miss Bradbury, Lucifer's English teacher. Two weeks ago, Sam would have liked to talk to her. Now, he didn't have much interest in what she had to say.

“Yes. What is it?”

“Hello! I'm Miss Bradbury.” She smiled awkwardly, waving at him with one hand. It was a weird gesture for a teacher. “I just wanted to ask if you know anything about Lucifer?”

 _That's a good question_ , Sam thought. But he only replied with a shake of his head. “No, sorry.”

Her smile vanished at the cold answer.

“Oh...” She bit her lip and glanced around nervously. “It's just, Sister Abbey doesn't answer the phone and I've seen you two together a few times in the hallways and during lunch time, so I was under the impression that-”

“No, sorry,” Sam repeated, more firmly.

Miss Bradbury's eyes widened, but she just didn't shut up. “Eh, sorry. It's just such a shame, you know. He was one of my most talented students and I talked to his other teachers, he could have made it. With his SATs from last year... But he hasn't showed up at all, not for any of his exams, he and three other students, and I'm a bit worried...”

She glanced at him, but Sam only clenched his teeth slightly as she went on. “I could have helped him get into a good university. He's shown some interest in psychology in his essays, I thought maybe he could go into research, he definitely would have the potential to, and-”

“I don't think he wants to go into research,” Sam stated, and turned around.

He could hear Miss Bradbury swear to herself behind him, and she even shouted after him.

“If you see him, could you tell him? That I want to help?”

Sam walked away. He wouldn't tell him. Not because he didn't want him to get help, but because he knew Lucifer wouldn't take it. But luckily chances were he wouldn't see him anyway. For a moment, Sam wondered if he would ever talk to him again. But as soon as he felt the knot in his throat, he shook his head to get rid of the thoughts.

His finals. He just had to concentrate on his finals and survive.

And he did.

Two Fridays later, on his last day of school, he had all his total grades.

“Just straight As? Are you kidding me?” Castiel snorted, putting out his cigarette at the school's gate.

Sam shrugged. “I want to go to Stanford.”

Cas whistled. “High ambitions.”

Though Sam didn't know what to say to that, he was grateful for the company on his way back so he finally said, “You can't be too bad yourself, though. What do you want to do?”

“Well,” Cas grinned, “right now I'd love to celebrate the new-won freedom with a psychedelic journey to my inner self.”

Sam frowned. For some reason, Castiel's drug use was getting on his nerves now. Like he didn't want him to be so careless all the time when he himself had to live with this constant bad mood. It didn't seem fair, that he could just forget everything around him all the time. That he didn't need to concentrate on higher aims to get through the day.

Castiel glanced at him. “What, you want some?”

“Some what?”

“Acid.”

Sam snorted. “No, thanks.”

Cas looked at him for some time, then turned away. “You know,” he said, “I liked both of you much better when you were still together.”

Sam stopped. Why did everyone keep talking about Luce? Sarah, Miss Bradbury, Cas. As if there was nothing else in Sam's life. __Maybe there isn't__ _,_ something inside him whispered.  _ _That's why you don't know what to do now, without him._ _

It was happening again. Cas had reminded him, and there were the thoughts again.

_I want to know how he's doing._

_Probably planning his next murder._

_But what if he can change?_

_You already tried that._

_He deserves another chance._

_He got his second chance after stalking you, remember?_

For over a week, Sam had heard nothing from Lucifer. If anyone would know anything, it was Castiel. But he was still walking, walking away from Sam, and Sam had to nearly run to get back to him.

“How is he?” he asked, catching his breath.

Cas casually looked up at him. “Who?”

“Lucifer.” Sam rolled his eyes impatiently. “Luce, how is he?”

“Oh,him.” Castiel took his time, stretching his back and throwing his head back. Sam waited for a few long seconds just filled with Castiel's low moaning, and he asked himself how he could be so relaxed even while walking. But then again, it was probably drugs calming him down all the time. Ultimately, the drugs were to blame for this unbearable waiting.

After Cas finally sighed contentedly and opened his eyes again, the only thing that came out of it was, “I don't know.”

Sam stared at him blankly. “You don't know.”

Cas nodded in confirmation. “Affirmative.”

Sam blinked. “How come you don't know? You're the only one who ever sees him, aren't you?”

“No,” Cas laughed bitterly, “I haven't seen him in days.”

Now Sam got angry. He stopped and looked accusingly at him. “Why not?”

“Whoa there, Juliet.” Cas cocked an eyebrow. “Why haven't you?”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Opened it. Closed it.

“I can't.”

“Yeah.” Cas shook his head with a bitter smirk. “See, I won't. I tried talking to him about what happened, he never replied. At all. If he wants some alone time, he can have it.”

“But...” Sam barely stopped himself from insulting Cas. “You can't just leave him to himself like that!”

Cas snorted. “Oh, I can. Can you?” He winked, and then walked on, leaving Sam behind.

He stayed where he was for a minute. Well, could he? More importantly, did he want to? Did he want to leave Lucifer rotting in his room, where he could do something stupid any minute? He thought back to what Adam had told him about Lucifer on the roof, looking like he was about to jump. A shudder went through his body at the thought. Maybe something had already happened. When had he last seen Lucifer? That one time after dinner several days ago couldn't be the only time he had seen him, right?

Wait. Had Cas manipulated him into thinking that? Said that he wouldn't look for Lucifer just to make Sam check on him?

He scoffed. He was losing perspective again. Lucifer had murdered someone. Someone he had known. He shouldn't feel sorry for him. He shouldn't want to keep him safe.

With a shake of his head, Sam went home.

He paused in front of his room, looking down the corridor to where the numberless door of the old cupboard was. He tried to listen. Maybe he would hear something, just one of the many unconscious noises humans made all the time.

_No, Sam._

He would find another, more subtle way of checking on him. For now, he would have to live with the bad feeling in his gut. And Lucifer wasn't the only one needing help.

When he entered the room, Curee was lying full length in the middle of it, face to the ceiling and eyes wide open.

“Curee?”

He didn't move. Sam was on alert and on the floor in seconds, taking Curee's hand and shaking it. It was rigid, his whole arm moved as Sam shook it, and for a moment he thought it was some kind of rigor mortis, but his brain told him that that couldn't be, not this fast.

Then the boy blinked, and Sam let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God!”

But Curee was still staring at the ceiling, not showing any other sign of recognition. His face was like a mask, his eyes were glassy and his body was overall rigid. What was happening?

“Mercury?” Sam tried again, and this time something in his face seemed to relax.

“Mmh...” Curee grimaced, all of sudden looking like he was about to cry. “Where's my brother?”

“Your...”

“He left me behind. He promised he would never leave me behind.”

Sam's mouth fell open. He stared at the poor boy's face, shaking his head. “No. No, he's not leaving you behind. He...”

Shit. Sam wanted to tell him the truth. He would want to know the truth. Even if someone had killed Dean when he was Curee's age, he would have wanted to know. If only to be sure of what had happened to him. Sam felt a familiar guilt at the thought of Dean still not knowing about Sam. It was one of the worst things to be left in the dark. Worse than facing the truth and dealing with it.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't tell him. It was a far too horrible thing to say to a grade schooler. Sam bit his lip.

“Listen, you hear me, Curee? Stay here, okay? Don't move. I'm getting help.”

Curee didn't answer, but Sam doubted he was going anywhere. He stood up and knocked at the girls' door. The right person answered.

“Anna!” Sam pointed behind him to his room. “Something happened to Curee. He's... catatonic or something, I don't know. Can you watch him while I go and get help?”

Anna's eyes widened, but she gave a firm nod and did as he'd told her. Sam watched her disappear into the room. He quickly glanced at Jo and Kali still in their own room, looking confused, before he went down the stairs.

He needed to talk to Abaddon.

  


* * *

  


It had become routine. Nothing to worry about.

They weren't on the sofa anymore. Instead, Abaddon had moved their appointments to her bedroom on the other side of the office. There she was lying on her bed, and Lucifer knelt on the floor in front of her.

He felt nothing. The woman was moaning and talking all kinds of obscenities all the time, but Lucifer didn't listen. He just licked half-heartedly until it was all over, just for it to start again the next day, or the day after.

At first he had thought of all kinds of different things while he was at it, but after some time he had run out of things to think about. Now he was idle, his body doing the mechanics while his mind was shut off.

“Oh, right there. Just like this! Oh...”

She held his head and pressed it closer to her. He didn't like that. It was difficult to breathe when she did that.

“Oh Lucifer, my own antichrist...”

He considered telling her that Lucifer was in fact not the antichrist, but he couldn't. His mouth was full.

“Fuck”

Lucifer gagged. It was all getting too wet, tasting too fishy and she didn't give him enough space.

“O God, don't move...”

His throat hurt. It was pressed too hard to the edge of the bed. Lucifer tried to free himself from her but her grip on him was too tight. He made choking noises to call attention to his discomfort but nothing happened.

“Not now, babe. Just a few more...”

He bit down hard on her most sensitive parts. Abaddon screamed in pain, pushing him away furiously. Lucifer landed on his elbows and stared at her blankly.

“You filthy little...” She stood up in front of him, looking down on him while holding her genitals. “What do you think you were doing?”

Lucifer shrugged. He didn't say anything.

Abaddon gritted her teeth and bent over. “Remember, boy,” she said with a dangerous voice. “You're doing this for Sam. Don't do anything stupid.”

He closed his eyes. As if he could ever forget whom he was doing this for.

  


* * *

  


His hand still raised to knock, Sam kept staring at the door.

The gray clouds moved on and revealed the sun shining down at him mockingly bright. He had been standing there for a few minutes, not daring to move. His mouth was still open in shock, his eyes, wide and scared at first, had narrowed to a slit under his furrowed brows after the last thing Abaddon had said.

If the window of the small house hadn't been open, he would have burst in on this. He would have seen them, Abaddon lying there and Lucifer...

But she would be dumb not to lock the door. He wouldn't have seen anything. He would have interrupted it.

Sam stumbled a few feet backwards. He should have knocked. He would have prevented it. Maybe he could still stop it from happening again, if he did just...

The door was right there in front of him, dangerously dark and threatening to open any second if he didn't open it first.

Shaking his head, he turned around and ran around the house, to the bench at the edge of the woods Lucifer had always sat on. Before he had stopped going outside. Before he had shut himself off from everything and everyone.

Not everyone.

How could Sam not have seen it? Why hadn't he taken Lucifer's hints about his relationship to Abaddon? He burrowed his face in his hands and let out a sob. It had been so obvious, Lucifer's problems with physical closeness, with dubious consent due to drug use, with talking about Abaddon and his past in her home. It had probably been going on for months or even years, and nobody had ever noticed. And now it was happening again, because of him.

What was he going to do?

_Tell somebody._

Who should he tell? The police? Would they be able to help him?

 _But Lucifer had_ _killed_ _someone._

What if... What if...

“Sammy?!”

The deep, determined voice was the last thing Sam expected to hear. He jumped to his feet, and his head spun around to the source of it.

He stared in disbelief at the dark blond young man with a green jacket and a thigh holster around his bowlegs. He looked ever so bitter, worse than Sam had ever seen him, and-

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was hard and angry, the hug he gave him so firm it almost hurt.

“Dean...” He stumbled trying to hug him back.

What was happening? This had to be a dream. Or maybe he was finally going crazy and this was all in his head. Yes. That must be it.

“Don't 'Dean' me,” Dean growled, letting go of him with a sudden push that almost made him fall over. “What were you thinkin' runnin' away without a word? I thought you were dead, Sam.”

The guilt he'd been locking away in his subconscious broke out, making him crawl in on himself. His heart was racing in his chest, thoughts shooting through his brain, and suddenly he felt like he needed to support himself. He stumbled backwards, away from Dean.

“Sam?!”

“Get away from me,” Sam mumbled. He almost tripped over his own feet, his hands searching blindly for the bench. This was a nightmare, and everything was crashing down on him. Nothing was real, and Sam squinted hard to make it go away, but it did't.

“Sorry, Sammy.”

The last thing he saw was his brother's angry frown over him and a fist flying his way. Then he blacked out.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Sam's head hurt when he gained consciousness. He kept his eyes closed for a second, trying to gather himself... until he realized that there was someone talking, and that he recognized the voice.

“What do you want from me? I... I didn't _really_  want to buy pot from him, I was going to call the police anyway. It was just a trick! No need to lock me up. Just let me go!”

“Be quiet.”

A shiver ran down his spine. That voice, he knew all too well. Sam opened his eyes.

“Dad?”

They were all looking at him. Dean, with his hard expression, only a spark of that brotherly love left Sam had once seen almost every time they'd looked at each other. His father, with furrowed brows and clear disappointment in his eyes. And... what was Azazel doing here? Wherever 'here' was...

The boy was sitting on the floor across from him, one hand chained to a bed pole, fear evident on his face.

Sam blinked. They were all still there. What...

Dean turned away from Azazel and knelt down in front of him. Only when Sam tried to move his hands did he realize that he, too, was chained to a bed. He looked around. Little light. Ugly wallpaper. A motel room with two single beds. The sight was familiar. His heart sank when he realized... he was back.

“You need anything?” Dean asked plainly. “Hungry, thirsty?”

There was a hole in his stomach, and his throat was dry. But that wasn't the most pressing issue.

What was happening? He was somewhere in a motel with his brother, his dad and a random kid without any connection to them other than that he had been living at the same place as Sam for a few months. Why was he here, and how had he gotten back to where he'd started?

He remembered having found out about Lucifer and Abaddon. Panicking about it. Then Dean showing up, a lot of confusion, and suddenly a punch to his face. Dean had knocked him unconscious.

Sam studied his brother's face. Dean cared about him. Sam knew he did. But his voice and expression told a different story. He could have been talking to any random guy, not his little brother, and Sam's confusion turned into fear with every second he stared into the dead green eyes.

“Dean, what is happening?” Sam almost whispered. He didn't want John to hear. Even a bitter Dean was still better than their father.

Dean took a deep breath. “Work.” He looked at Azazel, who was looking like he was just waiting to wake up from a nightmare. Sam knew the feeling. If the weight of the handcuffs, the pain in his head and the musty smell of the motel room weren't too real, he would have been sure he was dreaming.

“We weren't lookin' for you, Sam. Not anymore.” Dean glanced at their father, silently asking for permission to speak on. John nodded, and Sam was remembered of why he couldn't live with his father... apart from the killing.

“That asshole that killed mom?” Dean stood up, and now Sam could see the gun in his hands. “You know we lost track of him years ago. But then... while we were searching for you...” Sam avoided the judging gazes from his family, looking instead at his free hand for the moment of uncomfortable silence.

“We got a lead on him again. Asshole's moving around, always one step ahead of us. But guess what.” Dean smiled humorlessly. “He got a son.”

All eyes turned to Azazel, who was in return staring at each of them in panic and confusion. “What? What about my dad? I have no idea who you people are. Sam, what-”

Dean pointed the gun at him, and Azazel fell silent, staring at the metal in front of him.

“Put the gun down,” Sam shouted with a voice much steadier than he had thought to be capable of.

Dean turned to Sam but didn't lower the gun. He just looked at him. But at the same time, it didn't feel like he looked at him at all. Something was wrong about Dean's eyes... about his face. He was just... hard. Cold. Cold enough to point a gun at an innocent child.

“Put it down, Dean.”

Dean's green eyes didn't leave Sam's as he slowly lowered the gun. He looked dangerous. Really dangerous. Sam had never been afraid of his brother, but now he was. Whatever had happened to him; he couldn't stand this version of Dean.

“Don't you tell me what to do, Sam.”

They kept staring at each other. Sam bit his lip. He was searching Dean's face for something of his brother. Something of what had been there only a few months ago. But something had changed in him. Sam felt like he didn't know his own brother anymore.

“Anyway,” Dean continued slowly, finally looking away again. “Knew the city he was last seen in and searched for him. Wasn't easy. That bitch you lived with really hides her business well.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Well, you found him. And me. What now? You wanna kill his son?” He could see Azazel gulp from the corner of his eye, and remembered that he couldn't talk about murder just like that. It wasn't normal. It shouldn't be. Sam didn't want it to be. But the ugly truth was that in his family, killing people was more normal than going to a football game.

Again, Dean turned to John for guidance. Their father didn't look at Sam. Maybe he couldn't look him in the eye. Sam surely couldn't.

“Only as a last resort,” John explained like it was no big deal. “But first we'll see if his father still runs as fast with his son held captive.”

“What did my dad do?” Azazel asked suddenly, surprising all of them. And he was looking at Sam, not at Dean or John. How was he supposed to... Sam opened his mouth to say something, but it was Dean who answered, standing up and looming over the teenager.

“Your dad killed my mom, and almost burned my entire family.”

Azazel's expression shifted. He didn't look as scared anymore, even though Dean was standing over him in this way. It was a strange sight, like David suddenly standing up against Goliath. Sam frowned in confusion. Azazel was angry.

“Oh. So your mother was the one who destroyed my family?”

So there Azazel was, hurling a stone at Dean. Only he really wasn't in the position to. Sam's thoughts went crazy as he watched the two of them, like an endless amount of neon lights flashing up for a split second, leaving him in a state of colorful sensory overload, as if he was standing in front of a cockpit with hundreds of blinking buttons, not knowing what either of them could do. He couldn't even say anything to save the boy, too confused himself about what the hell was happening.

Azazel had lifted his head, looking Dean dead in the eye. There were only inches between them, and Dean clenched his teeth, but otherwise his face remained hard and motionless. Seconds went by. Sam held his breath. The tension in the room was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

“ _Your_  family?” Dean finally asked, glaring down at Azazel.

“Yes.” The younger boy stared back at him just as fearlessly. “She's the one my dad was having an affair with, right?”

Both older Winchesters drew their guns. Sam inhaled sharply. “Don't...”

“They fucked, and she let him down,” Azazel continued flatly.

Two unlocked guns were pointing at him now. “Dean...” Sam tried to reach his brother with his free hand, but couldn't get to him. He panted desperately.

“Dean!”

But his brother ignored him.

“What are you saying about my mother, boy?” Dean growled.

Azazel scoffed. “ _My_ mother killed herself because of yours! And my dad went crazy over it.” He glared at them. All three of them. “Nice to finally meet the people who ruined my childhood.”

John jumped, Azazel screamed, and Dean was staring at the boy with hate in his eyes. They were going to kill him.

“Stop! He's just a teenager!” Sam yelled helplessly. “You're crazy!”

There was silence for a moment. John's eyes met Sam's. _You're crazy._ That had been the last words Sam had said to his father before he'd packed his things and left. He knew that he remembered their last fight just as clearly when he saw the look of pain and disappointment.

Sam felt sick. Guilty and sick. And he knew he shouldn't. He had talked with Lucifer about this. It had been his decision to go because he couldn't live the life his family wanted him to live. And it was his life. His future. He just wanted a fair chance at fulfilling his dreams. A chance to live a life that didn't violate his values.

But he felt guilty anyway. He knew they couldn't understand. That family was their number one priority, and just because Sam couldn't live like this, they thought he didn't love them at all. And he had betrayed them.

With a silent sob, Sam looked away from John. He would never be able to live with them, and they were never going to change. Another innocent person would die. Die at the hands of someone Sam loved, still loved, even though he didn't want to.

But to his surprise, his father put his gun down. And Dean followed suit.

“I'm getting something to eat,” John murmured. “Dean, watch out for...” He paused. “... both of them. I'll be back soon.”

“Yes, Sir.” Dean nodded.

Before John was out the door, he said to Azazel, “You shouldn't tell lies, boy. I don't like it.” He closed the door loudly and there was silence again.

Sam closed his eyes. Whatever energy he'd had left to get through this was gone. His mind went empty, his head fell back and his body sank lower against the bed as he sighed to himself, wondering what his life had become.

  


* * *

  


His fascination with things was gone.

There had been a time when, when Lucifer had read about neurological processes, it had all added up to a big picture, little chemical details providing more information about how the human mind worked, to give him a better understanding of the whole thing. Now he wondered why he had even cared to understand.

The facts were still the same, yet they did nothing for him. He could just as well have read about some celebrity’s second divorce, it would have been just as exciting.

He put the book away.

There was nothing left for him to do. Sometimes he wondered if he should get back in contact with the others. Maybe take Castiel's offer to talk. Maybe smoke weed with Ruby. Maybe even play with Lilith. But that were just maybes. Moments of hypothetical thoughts, nothing more. He didn't really want to talk to any of them.

With Castiel, it was about pride. He wasn't going to be the one to talk to him first, after he had suggested several times that Lucifer should go to therapy, instead of pretending nothing unusual had happened, like Lucifer would have needed. If he had really been Lucifer's friend, he wouldn't just have tried to shove him off.

But then again, maybe that was what Lucifer deserved for killing somebody. Objectively, maybe he wasn't worthy of anyone's care anymore. Or maybe he had never been in the first place. He personally still thought Baldur deserved what had happened to him, too.

Was he a psychopath?

He should have asked Meg to stay. There was no doubt she would have given him what he needed if he had asked for it. Silent company, but no serious talks. Nothing difficult.

Sometimes he imagined conversations with Sam.

He thought back to their happier times, to a talk about literature or politics or life and something he could have added but hadn't. He imagined Sam's reaction to it, what his opinion would have been, and reacted to it in his head. That went on for as long as he could think of things to say about a topic, and it ended in some act of affection, like running his fingers through Sam's hair and telling him how extraordinary he was.

Then, when he was lying alone in his room with a smile on his face, he wondered if he was slowly going mad.

There was a knock on the door. Lucifer didn't react to it. He had been to Abaddon's office just this morning, there was no obligation for him to go to her yet again. Or maybe it was Castiel, finally demanding to get the shirt back that had fallen off the pile of clothes he had taken out of the room along with his drug stash. The shirt Lucifer had not held in his hands for minutes before crumpling it and throwing it into the furthest corner under Castiel's bed.

It was silent for a long time. So long that Lucifer's body relaxed again, lying calmly in the safety of not having to interact with anyone.

But then the door opened, and Lucifer tensed all over again.

Someone huffed. “Umph. You're going to suffocate in here.”

The voice didn't match the red hair he saw and backed away from defensively. But it wasn't Abaddon, he realized as he watched the girl open the window for some fresh air.

“Why are you here?” Lucifer asked, staring at her from an awkward, half-sitting position.

Anna turned around and smiled mildly. “To see how you're doing.”

Lucifer scoffed, calming down again, and went back to a lying position, staring at the ceiling. As if any of them had ever cared about how he was doing.

“Nothing to see,” he murmured.

Anna stepped forward, her face above him coming into view. He didn't like it. He wanted to turn around to not be forced to look at her. But he couldn't too that. It was too weak of an action.

“Sorry if I'm disturbing you,” she said calmly, “but I wanted to check on you. With Sam disappearing... I thought you would maybe want someone to talk to.”

He was up and on his feet immediately.

“Sam disappearing?”

Anna backed away, a surprised expression on her face. Then she nodded. “Yes. He's been gone for a few days. Didn't you know?”

Lucifer stared at her, looking for any sign that she might be lying. But there wasn't any. And why would she? “Gone?” he echoed stupidly.

Now Anna looked concerned. She hesitated and studied him, an unnecessary pause, and Lucifer was just about to strangle her when she finally said, “Yes, gone. Just like Azazel. Nobody knows where they are... or where Baldur is, for that matter. And Mercury was sent to a clinic.” She sighed. “Poor boy. If you ask me, it's all crashing down. It won't be long before Abaddon will have to close the home... Are you alright?”

His hands were shaking. Sam couldn't be gone. He would have noticed. He would have known, somehow. They would have told him... She. She.

Lucifer slammed his fist against the wall and went into the corridor. Anna was shouting something after him but he didn't care. His bare feet hit the dirty carpet only a few times before he was there. He didn't knock, just swung the door open.

There was only Adam in the room, briefly looking up from the book he'd been reading.

“He's not here, dumbass,” Adam said mechanically and returned to his book.

Lucifer gritted his teeth, slamming the door shut again. He rushed through the hotel, his eyes darting around, searching for the tall brunette boy. But there was no one on the corridor, and only Ruby, Lilith and Cain in the dining hall. No Sam.

He wanted to scream.

Nobody had told him! Sam wasn't here anymore, and Lucifer hadn't known. How had he not known? He should have felt it. Someone should have said something. But no one had, no one...

And then all his rage concentrated on one person. He growled like a bear mother realizing someone had taken her offspring. With that familiar anger in his chest, Lucifer exited the building and was at Abaddon's office in no time, knocking loudly.

Two seconds passed.

He knocked again, rapidly.

“I'm coming!” came Abaddon's chanting voice, and the door was opened. “Oh, hello darling.”

“Where is Sam?” Lucifer asked without preamble.

Abaddon's lips curled into a hideous smile. Lucifer wanted to punch it off her face. “I was wondering when you'd figure it out. Come on in.” She stepped aside, but Lucifer stayed exactly where he was.

“You told me nothing,” he hissed. “You thought it could just go on like that?”

Abaddon shrugged.  _ _Shrugged._ _ “It was worth a shot. Now let us talk about this inside, please.”

Lucifer shook his head. Sam wasn't here. He didn't need to be careful with her anymore. “I'm not doing anything you tell me ever again. You hold no power over me.” He was almost yelling, glaring at her with hate in his eyes, and now she was finally beginning to look concerned.

“Baby, we can-”

“ _Not_  your baby.” Lucifer silenced her. And it felt good. Oh, it felt good to be angry, to scream at her, to feel something again after he hadn't felt anything but loneliness for who knew how long. “Now tell me where Sam is.”

Abaddon cleared her throat, lifting her chin. “I don't know.”

“Tell me or  _I'm_ going to tell!” Lucifer growled.

“Tell what?”

He turned around. Anna, as well as Ruby, Lilith and Cain, were walking towards them. Lucifer opened his mouth to say something, to finally tell everybody what Abaddon had done to him, what she had done to several children... Anna too, although she couldn't remember. He wanted to tell, but nothing came out of his mouth. It was like his throat was blocked.

“You aren't gonna tell anybody, are you?” Abaddon said, and there was a spark of madness in her eyes as she tilted her head and looked at him. “Not my sweet little devil!”

Silence.

Lucifer did nothing. He was breathing heavily, swallowing and sweating, and he kept his eyes fixed on Abaddon as all the others were staring at them. Time felt stretched as Abaddon's smile faded. And she realized how much she had already given away.

“Abbey, what have you done?” Cain finally said, stepping a few feet forward. “You're out of your mind,” he grumbled, and Lucifer noticed that in all the years he had stayed with them, he had never seen Cain look Abaddon in the eye. He looked pained, and scared, and altogether pathetic. But who was Lucifer to judge.

“This started as a project to help lost children, remember? And then when Colette died, you...”

“I what, Cain?” Abaddon screamed. “You wanted the money as much as I did, and if I remember it right it was me who found a catholic dumb enough to fund us after we needed to go undercover. You should be thankful!”

The girls must have been shocked. But Lucifer paid no attention to them. His eyes were on Cain, who hesitated, seemingly uncomfortable with the open discussion. But he deserved it. He was as much to blame as she was. When he finally spoke, it was nothing but, “Yes... But it's not about the money for you.”

Abaddon chuckled, and now Lucifer was sure she had lost her mind. “No? Then what is it about, dear?” Her smile faded abruptly. “Like you care about anything other than your dead wife!”

“Enough, Abbey!” Cain made his way past Lucifer quickly and shoved her inside, closing the door behind them. Through the closed door and windows, one could hear that they were having a fight, but Lucifer couldn't make out the words.

He closed his eyes. It was silent.

“Crashing down,” Anna whispered.

  


* * *

  


Sam was tired. He was exhausted. It was like his body had been full of adrenaline for too long and now there was nothing left. He was asleep half the time, and even when he wasn't, his mind wasn't fully there.

He didn't bother to move once he woke up. Dean and Sam both slept in one of the twins, Sam in a fetal position like a tired cat at the end of its owner's bed, and Dean with his feet on the floor. He had given his pillow to Sam on their first night, although he hadn't wanted it. His neck hurt anyway, but it must have been nothing in comparison to Azazel, who slept on the floor every night in a sitting position with his head leaned against the other bed. The one John slept in.

“Say hello to your daddy.” John's voice sounded close, and next to Azazel's.

“Dad? Is that you? Dad?”

Sam opened his eyes just in time to see his father pull back the phone from the boy. He heard shouting coming from the phone's speakers, but couldn't make out the words.

“That's what I thought. So, where and when?”

John went across the room to where Dean leaned against the wall, the phone's station in his hands. Sam frowned, his mind still sleepy. So his father had found the guy he'd been looking for. Or the guy had found him, however he had gotten the message of his son being held hostage.

“Southern Wyoming. … No, I will be there, just need to drive a few miles. … Tomorrow night? … Don't worry, you'll see your son.” John hung up and grabbed his jacket.

“Got'em.” He knelt down next to Azazel and started fumbling with his cuffs. “You're coming with me.”

“What? Where are we going?” Azazel glanced back and forth between Sam and John rapidly, eyes wide with fear.

Sam swallowed. He couldn't let John take Azazel with him... make him watch his father die. He'd gotten the boy into enough trouble as it was. So he opened his mouth and spoke for the first time in a long time, his voice a little hoarse.

“Dad?” He coughed. “Why do you even take him with you? He's only going to cost you time and money, and like you said, you've already got him.” If human dignity and moral values didn't work as arguments, maybe convenience would.

John hesitated, watching Sam with a thoughtful expression. Then his lips curled up in a small smile. “You're right, Sam. He don't need no son when he's dead.”

With that he stood up again, put on his jacket and opened the door, turning to Dean one last time before he left.

“You know what to do. Food's in the bag, use water from the sink. Don't leave the room, don't let either of them out of your sight. And especially...”

“Watch out for Sam.” Dean nodded. “I'm not gonna let him run away a second time.”

If Sam hadn't been so tired, he would have shouted at both of them for treating him like a child again, like someone without a will of their own who didn't get an opinion. But as it was, he just watched his father slap Dean on the shoulder and turn to leave.

“Hey,” Azazel screamed after him, “hey, where are you going? What are you-”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Azazel turned to Sam. “What is he doing?”

Sam shut his eyes and shook his head.

He continued to shut his mouth all day, and so did the other two. At times, the silence was literally deafening. Sam wondered if he had gone deaf a time or two because there was no sound whatsoever once Dean closed the window and thus turned off the environmental noises. But then Dean would cough or Azazel would tap his foot, and Sam knew it was just all of them being quiet.

“Anyone else?” Dean asked late in the evening after returning from the bathroom, the door of which was never closed. Sam would never have thought he'd be forced to listen to his brother's pissing.

Azazel eyed him warily. “You're not gonna watch me like your dad did, right?”

Dean scoffed. “Nothing I haven't seen before.” He untied Azazel but kept the cuffs bound to his own arm, leaning in the door frame watching his brother across the room while the younger boy used the toilet.

“Dean, please,” Sam tried. “You don't need him anymore. Let him go.”

Dean smirked humorlessly. “Sorry, Sammy. Can't do.”

“He's just a kid!” Sam stared into his brother's eyes, hoping to reactivate his empathy or something, but no. Nothing. Dean just kept staring at him.

“What you're doing isn't justice,” Sam tried for the hundredth time, and Dean closed his eyes in annoyance as he added, “It's never been. This is just about you, and your need to hurt and destroy-”

“Sammy.”

“- and you can't justify it with  _anything_!”

“Sam!” Dean had opened his eyes again and had almost taken a step in his direction, if he hadn't been chained to Azazel.

“What?” Sam shot back, bitchfacing him.

“I'm not trying to justify anything,” Dean said with a light shake of his head. “Not anymore.”

Sam stared at his brother. He had expected him to talk about rightful revenge, about the importance of family or following dad's orders and whatever else he had believed in when they had last argued about this. He frowned. This was surprisingly disarming. And disappointing. And worrying. At least Dean had had some sense of morality, if a twisted one. And now he just... what?

He would have asked him about it, but Dean was already looking away, his brows slightly furrowed in that damn cold expression he was constantly wearing. He didn't look like he would tell Sam anything right now.

Sam sighed and changed tactics. Now that he was at it, he might as well try whatever came to his mind to get Azazel and him out of this. “I'm your brother. Do you really want to-” He raised his hand and pointed at the red wrist. “- keep me chained to a bed?” Sam huffed a laugh. “That's kinky.”

Dean didn't grin. The younger version of him would have, but this Dean just led Azazel back to his bed and turned the lights off. Sam gave up.

“We're waiting until dad gets back.”

It was dark.

Sam sighed. He didn't want to fall asleep so he wouldn't need to wake up in the morning, knowing what his father was about to do. But his body was still too weak, and soon he was dreaming of Lucifer and him in a world far from reality.

In his dream, they were happy.

  


* * *

  


The outburst was just temporary. When the truth sank in that Sam was gone, that he wasn't coming back, Lucifer went back to the unbearable state of not feeling anything at all.

Anna hadn't visited him again, nor had anyone else. Castiel still didn't make the first move, Abaddon didn't ask for him anymore, and Cain wouldn't dare to talk to him. He was alone, more than ever, and sometimes he wondered if it was a good or a bad thing that he didn't feel lonely.

Company was overrated. He didn't need people around him, not those available anyway. Whether he liked it or not though, he did need to leave his room occasionally in order to take care of his basic human needs, like emptying his bladder.

His bedsheets smelled awful. Like he did. He rarely got out of bed, and the sheets no one ever bothered to change were clammy from cold sweat. Fortunately, Lucifer couldn't care less about lying in his own filth.

He stood up slowly and walked to the door. His eyesight went black for a second, his shaky legs trying to sustain him. They weren't used to walking around much anymore. When he found his balance, he walked out to the corridor.

The carpet felt clean under his bare feet. The whole hotel was much cleaner now, since the showdown with Abaddon had happened. As it seemed, Cain felt responsible for them all of sudden. He was also the one who cooked the dinner Lucifer got himself a little piece of every night. Maybe Abaddon had left. Maybe he had given her over to the police, or thrown her out.

Cain must feel like a hero now. Now that he finally cared, five years late.

Lucifer scoffed to himself. If Sam had taught him anything after all, it was that no tragic back story justified any person's deeds. It was the same outcome, whether that man had lost his wife to the monster or not, he ultimately hadn't stopped her from destroying as many people's lives as she could.

A hero who let children suffer quietly for years.

The bathroom door was already open. Lucifer walked in, and stopped. There was someone lying on the floor next to the toilet. Black hair, pale skin, loose jeans.

Castiel.

Lucifer blinked slowly, expecting the vision to fade away like all the other Castiel's and Sam's he sometimes believed to see from the corner of his eyes. But it didn't.

He let his eyes wander from Castiel's face to the toilet seat. It was covered in puke. Lucifer grimaced. Then Castiel moved. He choked, sending another round of puke to the floor.

For a moment, Lucifer considered relieving himself regardless of the unconscious boy on the floor. He really needed to piss. He stared at Castiel for another few seconds. Kicked his legs. No reaction.

After a while, he slowly walked out the bathroom again and along the corridor. When he walked past the door next to his own, he stopped.

Some time passed in which he simply stared over his shoulder at the door before he finally went back and knocked. The loud sound almost made him jump. There was no answer, so he opened the door himself.

Inside was just one person. Crowley lay on one of the beds with his eyes closed. Whether he was unconscious, sleeping or simply enjoying his high, Lucifer couldn't tell. On the table beside him were a spoon, a lighter and two syringes. Lucifer looked back at the Brit's face.

“Hey.”

Crowley grunted disapprovingly, like he didn't want to be disturbed.

“Fergus,” Lucifer said, a bit louder. Another annoyed grunt. “Your boyfriend is lying in his own puke on the bathroom floor.”

The brown eyes snatched open and the grunting stopped abruptly. “Castiel?”

Lucifer watched the boy sit up weakly with his pinpoint pupils. As he got up shakily, Lucifer proceeded on his way to the second bathroom, with nothing but a slightly sick stomach. Once he was back in his room, he wasn't quite sure if any of this had really happened, or if he had imagined it after all.

An unknown amount of time later, when Lucifer was in the middle of morphing fake memories of Michael and Sam to make his own perfect hell, someone knocked on his door.

As always, he was surprised to see the same white ceiling above him when he opened his eyes, after having been convinced to be at a completely different time and place. He rubbed his eyes.

The person knocked again, and then a British voice asked, “May I come in?”

Lucifer sat up. He didn't reply, but Crowley entered his room anyway. He watched him letting his eyes wander over the dirty clothes on the floor, before he closed the door behind him and, after a moment of hesitation, sat down on what had once been Castiel's bed.

“Hello to you, too,” he said cynically, pulling two cigarettes from his pocket and holding one out to him. Lucifer took it without looking away from Crowley's face, until the British boy eyed him strangely and cursed under his breath, lighting the cigarette for him and handing it back.

“What is it?” Lucifer asked, making Crowley raise his eyebrows as he emptied his lungs.

“No small-talk with you, I presume,” he said, clicking his tongue.

Lucifer kept staring, moving his lips thoughtfully. “I doubt you came to 'check on me', like Anna did.”

“No,” Crowley admitted with another quick raise of his eyebrows and a snappy head tilt. “Not that I don't care about your well-being...” He shot him a glance, and Lucifer scoffed. “No.” He looked for a place to tap off the ashes, eventually gave up and let it fall to the floor. It didn't make a difference anyway.

Then he faced Lucifer again. “This is about what you did yesterday.”

Lucifer frowned. Time was difficult for him. He managed to maintain his routine of stealing food from the kitchen after dinner time and using the bathroom at times when usually nobody else did, but placing certain events was difficult. He didn't sleep in one go; he was awake for as much of the night as he was of the day, and often he was in some kind of semi-sleep or entirely inside his own head. 'Yesterday' was as vague as 'some time ago'.

So his only reply was, “Yesterday?”

Crowley eyed him warily. “Yes, yesterday,” he confirmed, “when you told me about Castiel so I could get him to his feet before he could choke on his own vomit.” He took a drag from his cigarette and glanced at Lucifer's own that was about to go out. “Of course  _you_ should have done this in the first place. But nonetheless, you probably saved his life.”

It slowly came back to him, like when you were trying to remember a dream and suddenly got hold of that one image that brought the whole dream back to your memory. That one image was Castiel at the foot of a puked over toilet.

He dwelt on this memory and the realization of what had been happening for so long that Crowley snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Jesus, what's going on with you?” he muttered, but Lucifer chose to ignore the comment and shook his head instead.

“I was almost certain you would kill each other at some point,” he said with a tired voice, and finally pulled at his cigarette before the fire could truly die.

Crowley sighed. “Well... Looks like we're both drawn to destruction.” He stared into the distance for some time until Lucifer laughed bitterly, and Crowley shrugged. “But thanks to you we're not dead yet. Or more precisely, Castiel isn't. So...” He hesitated. “Thank you.”

Lucifer said nothing and kept smoking. He felt himself become more self-conscious, in the literal sense. He was aware of his own mind working, more present in the situation than he had been for some time. Thinking back to that event now, he was only thankful something had led him to get help after all, even if his head hadn't been clear enough for him to help Castiel himself.

There was no need to thank him, not really. The fact that Crowley did meant either that he cared more about Castiel than Lucifer was willing to believe, or that there was something else he wanted to discuss, whatever that may be. Since he still sat stiffly on the bed after he had finished smoking, it was probably both.

“So now that you've thanked me,” Lucifer began slowly when Crowley didn't make a move to either leave or say something, “why are you still here?”

Crowley sighed, rolling his eyes. He straightened his tie and suit several times before he finally started talking, his gaze locked on the ash on Lucifer's sheets. “There's something I've been holding back from Castiel.” He looked up slowly, meeting Lucifer's eyes. “Something I thought you may want to know, now that...” The sentence trailed off, but he didn't need to finish it.

“What?” Lucifer's voice sounded more disinterested than he really was. “If you want to admit to turning him into a junkie for your own benefit, in order for him to be dependent on you and simultaneously give less of a shit than ever about anything else, there's no need to tell me; I figured it out.”

The British boy glanced at him sideways and tapped his foot. “I'm not going to comment on that,” he mumbled before continuing more clearly, “A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon something. As a sophisticated citizen,” Lucifer snorted, but Crowley pretended not to hear and spoke on, a bit louder, “I read the daily newspaper.”

“Congratulations,” Lucifer mumbled, but again, Crowley merely cleared his throat and continued his story, seemingly more uncomfortable by the minute.

“So I couldn't help wondering about a certain advert popping up from time to time. Apparently, someone is searching for people with angelic names who lost their father at a young age.”

Lucifer stared at him, watching as Crowley pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He handed it over, and Lucifer took it. On it was a hand-written phone number and nothing else.

“His name is Gabriel,” Crowley added. “It is very possible that he is your older brother.”

In the few seconds Crowley needed to stand up, Lucifer's brain processed the new information. It was enough to pull him out of the foggy place he had inhabited for too long, to get his thoughts focused on something because this... was important.

“Wait,” he snapped before Crowley could get away, and the other boy turned around again. “Does that mean Castiel and I...”

Crowley nodded. “I believe so.”

Too many emotions mixed in his brain, and he wasn't sure if he was relieved to finally feel something after days and weeks of numbness, or if it was all too much. Shock, hope, grief, faith, fear, joy, anger, it was all coming at once, too much for him to express it all at the same time, so his brain decided on the emotion he was most familiar with. Anger.

“Are you telling me,” Lucifer growled, “you've known for weeks that Castiel and I are really brothers? You've known about Castiel's father, whom he's been searching for his whole life before you came along and made him forget about it, and you purposefully kept that knowledge from him just because your selfish ass didn't want him to leave you?”

Crowley swallowed. “I don't think knowledge is the right term to-”

“Even the possibility, the mere chance of finding a family and getting away from this place should have been enough for you to inform him. You know exactly how much he hates his life here, how much I do, and you didn't think it necessary to tell him?” Lucifer shook his head. “If you're blind enough to believe that you feel something only remotely close to love for this boy, let me tell you that you couldn't be more wrong.”

Crowley's expression darkened, and he gritted his teeth. “Don't tell me what I feel or don't feel,” he hissed. “I'm just paying off my debt. You saved someone important to me, now I'm offering you the opportunity to save yourself.”

With that, he walked out of the room, flipping the cigarette stub he'd been holding onto Lucifer's bed. Lucifer didn't hold him back. He stared at his own dead cigarette for some time before he let it drop to the floor.

Later, when he found Castiel alone in his room smoking weed, his brother moved over to make space for him without a word. They finished the joint together before Lucifer told him the news.

The brothers shared their first long brotherly embrace and a few silent tears soaked into Lucifer's shirt as Castiel whispered over his shoulder.

“I'm sorry.”

  


* * *

  


Five days. It had been five days since they had last heard from John, and in all that time, nothing had changed. They were still waiting, or at least Dean was, and now that Sam had gotten used to the situation he was in, he had stopped being tired and gotten bored instead.

So had Azazel.

He had been clicking his tongue repeatedly for the last five minutes, and it was not only getting on Sam's nerves.

“Okay,” came Dean's deep voice from the table, “You shut your mouth right now or I swear I'm gonna shoot you.”

Azazel didn't stop. Instead, he smirked. “I'm not saying anything.” And kept on clicking his tongue. Again and again and again and again.

Dean stood up, drew the gun from his jacket and aimed it at Azazel. “Yeah right, smartass,” he shouted, “you sure won't be saying anything after I-”

“Dean!” Sam sat up in his bed and shot his brother a glare. Then he turned to Azazel, his expression softening. “Aze, please.”

The boy gave an annoyed moan, but the tongue clicking finally stopped. Thank God. “How long are we going to wait?”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, sitting down again. “We'll hear from him.” But the concerned frown on his face let Sam know that he was worried. Their dad had been away for several days in a row without a word before, but this time was different. John had had an appointment four days ago, and after that he would have come back, or at least called to let them know everything had gone according to plan. They both knew what the lack of communication meant.

“Dean...” Sam said softly, searching his brother's eyes and locking gazes. “I don't think he's coming back, maybe something-”

“Sam!” Dean's eyes were cold, his stare angry but steady. “He's comin' back. Just gotta wait.”

“For how long, Dean? How many days will it take for you to realize-”

“There's nothing to realize, Sammy! I don't wanna hear another word about this.”

Sam scoffed. “Well, that's bad,” he snapped, “because the problem won't disappear just because you're ignoring it.”

Dean clenched his teeth, avoiding Sam's gaze, and Sam sighed. “At least let him go. You've got no reason to hold him here.”

“Yes, I do,” Dean growled. “Because dad said so.”

“Oh, because dad said so?” Sam laughed bitterly. “You're twenty one, Dean. You should have a mind of your own by now.”

Dean moved again, and suddenly he was in front of Sam, staring at him while pointing at Azazel. “This boy is a monster. His father killed our mom, Sam! He ruined our lives!”

“Yeah, and that makes _him_ the monster?” Sam asked just as urgently. “Come on, Dean. Look at him. Really look at him.”

Azazel was looking back and forth between the two of them, his brows furrowed in confusion and maybe a bit of fear. He was fumbling with the cuff around his wrist and biting his lip just a bit. He really was just a scared kid. Nothing else. But Dean's face remained hard as he looked the boy up and down.

“Sam's right,” Azazel stammered. “I... I know what it feels like. To have your family screwed up. I mean, the same thing happened to me. At least you guys stayed together for some time. When my mum was gone and my dad went crazy, I... had no one.”

For a moment, Sam thought that maybe Dean's expression was softening, the tension fading from his body. But then Azazel added, “Also, I don't think it was entirely his fault. Your mum had an affair, and she chose not to tell your dad about it. Maybe if she had, she could have been protected. It's just as much her own fault that-”

“Shut up.”

Sam sighed. Just when Dean had been nearly convinced.

“Just shut up.” Dean walked around the room in circles, his mind working, and Sam thought it better not to interrupt him. After a moment, he looked back at Azazel, and the surprise must have been evident in Sam's eyes when Dean asked, “Do you have a place to go to?”

Azazel was just as surprised as Sam, his mouth hanging open, but then finally, words were coming out of it. Just not the right ones. “I... could just go back to Aba-”

“No!” Sam shook his head. “No way are you going back to that woman. She...” He bit his lip, memories of what he had witnessed coming back to his mind. And with that came his worries. He had no idea what was going on. If Abaddon still forced Lucifer to...

He shook his head again, trying to get rid of the mental images. “She's bad. You're not going back there.”

Dean frowned at him and he kept his gaze locked on him for some time before he turned back to Azazel. “You heard him. Alternatives?”

Azazel sighed. “Just let me go, I'll find something. I did last time.”

“But you shouldn't now,” Sam said. “We can take you to the police, they'll find a foster home for you. A real one.”

Neither Azazel nor Dean seemed to like his plan. After nobody commented for some time, Dean scoffed. “You know what? Go take a shower, kid. You stink.”

And with that, he opened Azazel's handcuffs and nodded towards the bathroom. “Go.”

Azazel hesitated. He seemed to be suspicious, and so was Sam. That was a strange time to address the issue that they were all still wearing the same dirty clothes they'd worn on their first day. But finally, Azazel got up and into the bathroom, not without looking back at them several times, as if to ensure himself nobody was going to shoot him once he turned his back. Then the bathroom door closed behind him, and only a minute later, the sound of running water filled the silence.

Dean leaned down and opened Sam's cuffs, too. And oh, that was a relief. His wrist felt like it was never going to work properly again, the skin permanently red from all the friction.

“Uh... thanks,” Sam murmured, and Dean sat down next to him. There was nothing but the sounds from Azazel showering for a long moment. They didn't look at each other. Sam was still pretending to be examining his wrist, and Dean's gaze was fixed on some point at the floor. It took a few minutes before Dean suddenly talked.

“That woman back at your place... She did something to you?”

Sam glanced sideways. His brother looked thoughtful and concerned, but the hard edge wasn't leaving his face... sadly. Sam would love to see some of what his brother had once been. He finally opened his mouth to answer, but the words didn't come easy.

“Not to me.” He swallowed. “But to someone who's very important to me.” _Was,_ he corrected in his mind.  _Is,_  he admitted right after.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “You got yourself a girl in there?”

Sam let out a breath. “Not a girl, no.” He almost expected his brother to freak out at the mere possibility of Sam being interested in something other than a girl, but Dean didn't comment. In fact, he showed no reaction at all and seemed to be waiting to hear more, so Sam went on. “But it didn't work out anyway. You could say we had the same differences you and I have.”

Now Dean's eyebrows were about to disappear into his hairline. “You fought about whether or not to follow dad's orders?”

“Oh no.” Sam huffed a laugh at the very thought of Lucifer following orders. That was just too ridiculous. “No, not at all. It was more about the...” His smile faded, and he shook his head slightly. “The... killing people part.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. Then he rubbed his forehead, and nodded. “Sometimes killing's necessary.”

Sam's expression darkened. “No, it's not, Dean. It's never necessary. There are other ways, legal ways. Giving those people a fair trial and, if they're guilty, imprisonment. It's never necessary to kill. And...” He hesitated, but Dean looked at him expectantly, so he went on. “... Especially not in your case. Cases. You can't tell me that it was necessary for any of these people to die; that was just something you and dad did to feel like you're... getting revenge for mum's death or something.”

He had provoked his brother, Sam knew that, and now Dean balled his fist and angrily slammed it down on his own thigh. “These people deserved to die!” he fumed, grimacing in anger.

“Who cares?” Sam screamed back, surprising himself. “Look what it did to you, Dean! I barely recognize you. Are you even my brother anymore?”

That sure shut Dean up, and they just looked at each other for a minute, both of them calming down, but the air between them was getting thicker and thicker with tension, until suddenly, Dean scoffed.

“Whaddaya think livin' with dad was like?” he muttered, looking down at his own hands. “Was bad enough when you were around, but when you left... No chance of settling down anywhere. Just doin' job after job, all while tryin' to find the man who killed mom.” He shook his head. “I did jobs on my own, Sam. Gotta numb down a bit when people are droppin' like flies because of you.”

Sam closed his eyes. He knew that by running from his dad, he had also left Dean alone with him. He could only imagine what it must have been like for him. And though it was evident in every look of Dean, in every action, he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that his brother had taken lives on his own. Multiple times.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I just couldn't...”

Dean nodded. “I know, Sam.” He scoffed. “Doesn't mean I understand.”

They were silent again. So silent that Sam began to wonder...

“Dean? Don't you think Azazel's been in the shower for a bit too long now?”

Dean stood up wordlessly and went to the bathroom. Sam followed him. It was empty. The window was open, and the water was running with no one in the shower. Dean didn't seem surprised. He turned the water off and sighed.

Sam stared at him. “You knew he'd escape.”

“'Course I knew, Sam.” The corners of Dean's mouth quirked up. “I'm not dumb.” He stretched his back and looked at Sam questioningly. “What do you say we go get a burger somewhere. I'm sick and tired of dry bread.”

Sam nodded slowly and waited for his brother to take the lead before he followed him out the small bathroom. Before Dean opened the door, Sam stopped a few feet away.

“Dean?” he asked carefully. “... Do you think... Do you think dad is...” His voice broke. He had hated his father. Never gotten along with him. But still, the thought of him being dead...

Dean shook his head. “I don't know, Sam. Maybe he is. We can't say for sure.”

The tears started running down Sam's face before he realized that he was even crying, and his brother's face softened as he hesitated for a moment before he pulled Sam into a hug. And God, had Sam needed it. His arms wrapped around Dean's torso and held on tightly, like maybe he could make it all go away if he just clung to his brother long enough.

He didn't know if Dean was crying too or not, but when he spoke again, his voice sounded raw, and even a little bit helpless. “Why isn't anything ever just okay, Sam? Why can't it just be okay for a change? Just one time?”

Sam swallowed. He thought about it for a while before he answered softly, the tears still evident in his voice.

“Maybe it's not okay now. But it's going to be.”

  


* * *

  


Lucifer kept staring at the receiver. All those years he had lived here, and he'd never once used the phone.

“Come on now,” Castiel urged him. “Nothing's gonna happen if we just keep staring at it.”

With a nod, Lucifer dialed the number on the little piece of paper. He shouldn't be so excited. Maybe this wasn't even their brother.

The phone rang several times before somebody answered it. “Hello?” It was a chanting voice, with a mocking undertone even in the short greeting. Lucifer took a deep breath.

“Gabriel Kripke?”

“Oh no,” came the laughing voice from the phone's speakers, “I'm not walking around sharing a name with that asshole. Gamble, Gabriel Gamble. What can I do for you?”

Lucifer didn't answer. He swallowed. This Gabriel guy knew his father's name.

“Hello?”

Castiel took the phone from him after Lucifer had been silent for too long, and started talking. “Yeah, hello Gabriel. My name's Castiel. Please excuse Lucifer, he's having a rough time.”

He couldn't make out everything Gabriel was saying on the other end, but he heard his excited tone nonetheless. Lucifer started fumbling with his fingers.

“Yes, right,” he heard Castiel say. “Because of the newspaper advertisement, yes.”

There was a longer pause in which Gabriel kept talking until Castiel finally replied in his usual half-serious tone. “That would be very nice.”

Lucifer looked at his brother questioningly, and Castiel mouthed _wants to meet us_  in response. Lucifer stiffened while he listened to them agreeing on a time and place. He was thankful that Castiel did the talking. Though he already felt much better, he wasn't too keen on social interaction yet, and the idea of meeting a long lost brother made him more nervous than anything else.

“Thank you, Mister Gamble … Okay. Gabriel, then. Thank you, Gabriel. We're looking forward to meeting you.”

Castiel hung up and turned to Lucifer.

“Can we trust him?” Lucifer mumbled.

Castiel shrugged. “We'll see.” He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “You know I have to get tested.”

Lucifer frowned. “Tested?”

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed. “To see if I really am your brother.”

“What?” Lucifer shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Your name is Castiel. You lost your father. How could it be any other way?”

“Yeah.” Castiel put a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, and Lucifer's eyes followed the movement. It still felt strange to be touched, after that long time of isolation. “Lucifer, this guy could be our ticket out. He sounded like he meant it when he said he wanted a family reunion. I don't know what your plans were for the time after the reign of Abaddon, but I know I certainly don't wanna stay here any longer.” He lowered his voice and looked around, but no one was with them at the reception. “This place is changing. Cain's changing it. Most of the people we liked have disappeared. The basement's locked and a few days ago, Cain took Crowley's stash. He didn't even leave the weed.”

“Oh, what a loss,” Lucifer mumbled, but Castiel just rolled his eyes.

“What I'm saying is, whatever was great about the hotel is now taken away. We need to think about our future prospects, and if this Gabriel is a good guy, that could be our best option if we really are related. People do a lot for their families.”

Lucifer thought about that. His future.

A few months ago, he had wanted to get away from the foster home as soon as he was eighteen, then find something to make money with and live some miserable life.

A few weeks ago, he had wanted to stay for the year and graduate with Sam, move with him to California afterward and live a happy life.

A few days ago, he had wanted nothing, not thinking about the future, letting every day go by and living no life at all.

What did he want now?

“I'm not leaving without you,” Lucifer said. Of that, he was sure. If there would be any future for him, it wouldn't be without the only person around him he could trust.

Castiel tried to smile, but it looked more like a bitter grimace. “Hopefully you don't have to.”

Friday night, they were waiting for Gabriel in front of a local restaurant. It just came to them then that neither of them had any idea what Gabriel looked like and they had no way of identifying him. But apparently two lost looking boys with worn down clothes stood out enough for a man to walk their way shortly after their arrival.

Gabriel Gamble had a strange appearance. He was wearing a suit, a fancy one, and his hair was slicked back. The red satin shirt sure looked expensive but somehow, the combination of it with a golden tie that had lollipops of all shapes and colors printed on it was... odd.

“Hey boys,” Gabriel greeted them. “You must be Castiel and Lucifer.”

They both gave him a firm nod but didn't know anything to say to the strange man.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Aren't you quite the friendly ones.” He turned around and walked into the restaurant. “Follow me.”

The restaurant they'd chosen wasn't cheap and Lucifer and Castiel both stood out against all other guests. It wasn't a problem, though. Gabriel had reserved a table and the waiter didn't ask any questions about the weird trio.

As it turned out, Gabriel wasn't just some lunatic with a liking for skinny homeless boys. They sat down and ate dinner together, and once the uncomfortable silence was broken, Gabriel explained.

“Where should I start?” he began dramatically, his mouth full of pasta. “Eric Kripke... What a poor excuse of a father.” He cleaned his mouth with a napkin, swallowed, and looked at both Lucifer and Castiel when he continued.

“I still don't know if it's a kink of his or whatever, but the man has at least seven children named after angels, likely more, with at least six different women. It's always quite the same, he gets himself a woman, gets her pregnant, stays with her for something between ten months and ten years, then he dumps her and goes on to the next. The women are left behind, often unable to cope with the child and more often than not, the child ends up in an orphanage or a foster home.”

He had said all of this really quickly, with a lot of gesturing, and was now pointing one finger to each of them. “Like you here.” His lips formed a grin. “Balthazar and I are the exception. My mum's tough, she'd never have needed a man to raise the two of us.”

The meaning of Gabriel's words was somehow contradicted by his actions when he forgot all manners and put a giant spoonful of pasta into his mouth, splashing sauce all over the white tablecloth.

Lucifer eyed him suspiciously. “And you're looking for all the lost children why exactly?”

“Oh come on!” Gabriel exclaimed, swallowing the last bit of pasta. “I thought if nobody's trying to reunite our family, I might as well do it.” He gestured with his hands while speaking on. “I mean, think about it. There are probably lots of promising young people with wonderful names – you being the exception,” he mumbled, looking at Lucifer, “that's a terrible name and I can only imagine all the mocking in high school.“ Lucifer stiffened, but let Gabriel continue. “But they're forgotten, and nobody ever tells them what big of an asshole their father really is.”

Castiel cleared his throat. Lucifer glanced at him, put a hand on his forearm and gave what he hoped to be a reassuring squeeze. While Lucifer and Castiel exchanged looks, Gabriel pulled something out of his suit coat. Looking closer, Lucifer realized it were photos.

“This is him with me and my little brother. He left shortly after this photo was taken.”

Lucifer took the photograph and looked at it together with Castiel. That was him. He was at least ten years younger than the man Lucifer knew, but it was definitely his father, with a little boy on his lap and a baby on his shoulders. He was laughing. Lucifer barely contained an angry sob, and he turned the photo upside down on the table.

Gabriel took it back carefully. “From your reaction, I take it you know him?”

At first Lucifer said nothing, then he slowly looked up at Gabriel. “He stayed with us for ten years,” he mumbled. “With me and Michael.”

“I know.” Gabriel nodded. “I found Michael's mother through her marriage with him. She's the only one he ever married, but apparently she and her family weren't good enough for him, either. He's MIA now, haven't found him anywhere.” He shrugged. “But that's how I knew of you before you called me. I've been searching for you, Lucifer, and found records of a foster family you stayed with for some time, but after that...” He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No wonder...” Castiel and him mumbled at the same time, and Gabriel raised his eyebrows. They exchanged looks, and after some debating Castiel told him about the kind of home they had been living in.

“So,” Gabriel summed up, “you were living with a bunch of other teenagers in a hotel slash group home led by a woman who lost her license years ago and nobody ever questioned it?”

The brothers shook their heads.

“Wow, and you'd think after almost two millennia they'd have figured it out.” Gabriel laughed, and Lucifer and Castiel kept staring at him blankly. Castiel hadn't said anything about the abuse – maybe he didn't even know – but everything else still seemed too serious for anyone to laugh about it, and eventually, Gabriel stopped.

They stared at each other.

“Oh man, what am I gonna do with you?” Gabriel sighed and put his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers. “You used past tense,” he observed. “Does that mean you want to leave this place?”

Lucifer looked at Castiel, who smacked his lips thoughtfully. “Well... I think we need to. The woman who was in charge... she left, and so did many of our friends. We just need to find a place to stay. Since we've both got one year of high school left, it would be ideal if we could find a small flat or something near our school...”

The silence that followed was heavy with the implications of Castiel's words. They all knew he was hoping for Gabriel to support them because judging from his appearance, he did have a lot of money. Lucifer was as nervous as Castiel when Gabriel surprised them both.

“You know what? I've done Wall Street for way too long. Got money for a lifetime, and I never liked those dicks I'm working with in the first place.”

Lucifer looked up, frowning at Gabriel, who shrugged with a wide grin on his face. “I always wanted to have a candy shop. Small, but with the finest selection of teeth destroying goodies. I think this little town isn't a bad place for that.”

Castiel and Lucifer both stared at him with open mouths. Gabriel still grinned.

Lucifer was the first one to speak. “Did I understand that right? You're offering to move here? And...”

“And let the two of you live with me, yes,” Gabriel confirmed.

“I...” Castiel began, but Gabriel waved him off.

“Thank me later, I'm sure I'll be regretting this in the morning. And I didn't even have one drink.”

“Look, Gabriel...” Castiel tried again, but was cut off by the man in question.

“While we're at it, anyone under the age of twenty-one calling me Gabriel makes me feel uncomfortable. My other brothers call me Gabe, and if we're going to live together, you should do so too if you-”

“I killed someone,” Lucifer blurted out.

Maybe this was a stupid move. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. He could feel Castiel's indignant stare on him and was surprised his brother didn't jump up from his chair and shout  _Why?!_  into Lucifer's face. But Gabriel was offering them a lot, and if he seriously wanted them to be a family, Lucifer wanted him to know what he was in for.

Gabriel's smile faded, and he seemed to silently debate with himself about Lucifer's statement. After half a minute of tension in which both younger brothers stayed completely still, he leaned over the table and spoke directly to Lucifer with a low voice.

“How many people know about that?”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. Again, his newly found brother surprised him. That wasn't the kind of reaction he had expected after a murder confession. He glanced over to Castiel, and saw the answer in his face. He had known for some time.

“I guess... Some people suspect it, but...” Lucifer moved his lips thoughtfully before he continued. “Just one person knows for sure. And he won't...” He dropped his gaze. “He won't tell the police. That kid... He was a boy from our home, I guess there are no records of him either and-”

“Enough,” Gabriel interrupted him. “In that case, I don't know about a murder. What's in your past is in your past.”

“It's... more of a recent past,” Castiel confessed and eyed Lucifer with that look on his face, like he doubted his sanity. Lucifer hated it.

“Nu-uh.” Gabriel gestured wildly. “I don't want to hear anything more about that.”

Castiel snorted. “Well, you're not the only one who doesn't want to talk about it.” His former politeness was gone, and Lucifer took this as proof that Castiel had given up hope and was sure Gabriel wouldn't want them anymore. If that was the case, Lucifer would do anything for Gabriel to at least take care of Castiel. But as it seemed, Gabriel wasn't distressed at all.

“Talking is generally not a good idea,” said the man who had been babbling on about his family for the past two hours. Lucifer thanked him silently. “If you wanted to, of course, I may know someone... One of our brothers, actually. Raphael is a successful therapist, and he could be trusted not to accidentally drop your files in a police officer's lap, if you know what I mean.”

Lucifer coughed, and Gabriel took the hint. “But that's a problem for another day!” He smiled awkwardly. “My offer still holds.”

It took some time before they were comfortably chatting about random things again like Lucifer's favorite books or Gabriel's favorite sweets or Castiel's taste in boys. It took some more time and a paid bill for Lucifer to ask the question he was dying to ask since Gabriel had mentioned him.

“Gabriel, do you know anything about my brother... Michael?”

Gabriel took a sharp breath and avoided his gaze. For a moment, Lucifer thought Michael had died and something already shattered inside of him, but then Gabriel finally talked.

“Last time I spoke to his mother, he was in a mental institution.” Gabriel shrugged. “Guess he went crazy over our precious daddy leaving him.”

Lucifer blinked. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not about this,” Gabriel insisted, showing his palms as if to prove he was saying the truth.

Lucifer frowned. Michael, in a psychiatric clinic? Michael, who had always been the good son, the one their parents could count on, who never made a mistake?

And then, Lucifer nodded. Maybe that was exactly it. And why should Gabriel be lying to him?

“Sorry. It's just... He didn't seem the type.”

Gabriel sighed. “They never do.”

They were silent for some time before Castiel said with his eyes locked on the table, “Speaking of unpleasant things... It's pretty clear that you and Lucifer share the same father but with me, we don't know. You may want to test my blood before offering me a home.”

Gabriel looked at him like he'd suggested proving the existence of the Easter bunny before painting any eggs. “Are you kidding me?” His finger flickered back and forth between them. “You two already are brothers.”

They looked at each other. What Gabriel had said did something strange to Lucifer's chest. He was right. Blood or not, he had considered Castiel a brother long before he had known about who his father was. They were brothers.

“Which makes me your brother too,” Gabriel continued with a wide grin. “Congratulations, you happen to be related to one of the best.”

Castiel smiled. Genuinely smiled, not one of his half-assed grins or bitter smirks. And though Lucifer wasn't sure of it, it felt like he was smiling, too.

He had never thought about having a family again. More than that, just the thought of having a life again someday would have seemed too unreal just a few days ago. But maybe this was what it was going to be like now. A real home, with his real brothers, who apparently really wanted him.

Maybe he could give it a try.

“Come on now,” Gabriel finally broke the silence. “We've got a whole lot of paperwork to do.”

 


	10. Epilogue

Lucifer stood in front of the painting in their hallway for what must have been the hundredth time since they had moved in with Gabriel.

It was abstract, yet beautiful. Pink, blue and yellow blended into each other to form the vague shape of two wings on a red and orange ground, split up in the exact center of the canvas by a thick white line. There were no antennas, but the motive was clear.

He reached out with one finger to trace over the dried paint, appreciating the beauty of this perfect imperfection. The surface was uneven, thick and rough in some places while thin and almost powerless in others. And yet there was this perfect white line, drawn to bring order and symmetry into the painting of chaos.

It was a riddle. Lucifer didn't know the man behind this piece of art. He couldn't see him in what he saw in the painting. This artist was conflicted. Unsure about how to balance chaos and order. Unsure if they could be in balance at all. His brother had never wanted chaos in his life. This couldn't be the work of a boy who persuaded his mother into throwing out the brother that didn't want to follow rules.

This couldn't be Michael's work.

A hand slapped his shoulder, and Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts by Gabriel's amused voice.

“You know, if you like it so much I could print it on a postcard for you to carry around at all times. Or maybe a T-shirt? We could open a merchandise shop!”

Lucifer snorted and took one more look at the strange painting before he followed his brother into the kitchen to where Castiel was already sitting at the table, munching his cereal.

“I told you,” Gabriel said while preparing toast for the two of them, “you can visit Michael any time you want. From what I've heard, he's in good shape now.”

“I know.” Lucifer poured himself a glass of milk (Milk! He had forgotten how much he liked milk, after not having tasted it for several years) and sat down next to Castiel. “But no.”

He wasn't ready to meet this particular brother again. Not yet. No matter how curious he was about him, or how much Raphael encouraged him and said it would help him process everything, he just didn't feel ready to look Michael in the eye after having been betrayed by him so badly.

Gabriel shrugged and began to fry three eggs.

Castiel glanced over to the pan and frowned. “I didn't ask for an egg. I don't like them.”

“Damn right you didn't,” Gabriel confirmed. “They're all for me, you egocentric low-brow.”

“Hm.” Castiel raised an eyebrow, but quickly returned to the task of emptying his bowl of cereal. Lucifer finished his glass of milk and took one of the toasts, eating it dry.

“I heard your demonic friends ran away from their rescue?” Gabriel asked, putting two layers of whipped cream and jam onto his toast. At this point, Castiel and Lucifer didn't question his eating habits anymore.

“Ruby and Lilith.” Lucifer nodded. “Anna told me.”

“Well...” Gabriel licked his lips and took a massive bite from his toast. The munching didn't stop him from talking. “Iff pwobabwy foh feir beft.”

Lucifer frowned, leaning against the kitchen counter. After a few moments only filled with the sizzling of Gabriel's frying eggs, he turned to Castiel. “Have you ever wondered about what happened to Alastair?”

Gabriel swallowed the last piece of his sugar bomb and looked back and forth between them. “Who the flying bingoman is Alastair?”

“An ass,” Cas said without looking up.

“Great!” Gabriel grinned. “Then you can just forget about him, right?”

Lucifer wordlessly went out the kitchen and put on his shoes. New shoes, their whiteness still too bright for Lucifer's taste.

“Hey!” Gabriel shouted after him. “Slow down, kiddo. I'm not nearly done here, and if I give you a ride now, you'll be there even before the nerdiest nerd. Do you want that?”

“I'll walk,” Lucifer replied, and was out the door with his backpack on before anyone could ask why. It was part of his try-not-to-be-bitchy-around-your-friends-and-family-when-you're-really-angry-at-someone-else-tactic.

He still blamed Alastair for everything that had happened. If he hadn't offered himself to Baldur as a tool to get Sam in trouble, maybe it all wouldn't have escalated. Then again, maybe it wouldn't have escalated if he had actually given a shit about the war going on, and done something to stop it. Like Sam had wanted him to. But blaming Alastair was easier.

School these days wasn't good, but it wasn't too bad either. He felt discomfort when he entered the building, but no disgust. It was bearable. And at least he was now in Castiel's year, so they sat in a lot of classes together. Except when they didn't.

“You're skipping math with him? Again?” Lucifer moaned.

“Well, somebody has to be the rebel in the family, now that you're so eager to get your diploma, retake your SATs and all.” Castiel grinned.

“You know that's not it,” Lucifer grumbled. “We had an agreement. I go to therapy, you stop letting him drug you day after day.”

“I'm not letting him drug me,” Castiel protested with fake indignation. “If anything, I'm drugging myself.”

Lucifer stared.

“Hey, we're just smoking. You do that too, no big deal.”

That, he couldn't deny. Even though he didn't particularly like it, marijuana wasn't that bad of a drug. At least compared to the heroin the two douchebags had tried. But even though Crowley was the one who had ultimately brought them here, who really did offer Lucifer a chance to save himself, Lucifer still hated the guy. And he felt only a little bit like a big brother wary of his younger sibling's bad boy lover. “I don't like him,” he murmured.

Castiel shrugged. “I do.”

“He didn't tell you about Gabriel just to keep you close.”

“He's like that.”

“He's pathetic.”

“Seems to be a common trait in all of my friends.” His brother grinned and winked. “See you later.”

Lucifer bitterly gestured his goodbye to Castiel and watched him disappear behind the nearest corner before he made his way to his classroom earlier than anyone else. It still felt strange. Castiel was right about that. It didn't fit him to show up early to school, to always do his homework perfectly and to never miss a class without a good reason. Hell, it didn't fit him to even attend half of his classes.

But it was a necessary means to an end, and as a bonus, everybody counted that as him making progress. Which he did. In a way.

Sam hadn't come back to school in September. Lucifer hadn't expected him to, but was certain that he was now sitting in his classes, somewhere, in another school. Maybe he was already in California. Hopefully, he was in a better place, not in another hell disguised as a foster home.

He still saw some of the people from Abaddon's. Anna sat with him at lunch sometimes, and even Adam greeted him now if they happened to run into each other. According to what Anna told him,  _Demon Rescue_  was an official foster home again, without the ridiculous name. She said that Cain took care of them, and that he now had several service workers helping him bring the old hotel into shape and checking on them from time to time. The bar in the basement had already been turned into a room for therapy and workout, and that must have been the final straw that made Ruby take Lilith and leave.

“She turned eighteen long before she left,” Anna had said with a shrug. “So it's technically okay for her to live on her own. They're still searching for Lilith, though.”

Lucifer knew they wouldn't find them. Not if they didn't want to be found. In hindsight, he had cared more about all of them than he had admitted to himself. And maybe he should have done more to keep the group of friends from falling apart. But it was too late for any regrets, and he was working on that problem of his now.

Anna, Adam and Jo weren't the only familiar faces he saw occasionally. Once, when he stood in an empty classroom, red hair that didn't alarm him flew by the door frame, and returned when the teacher recognized him.

“Hello,” Charlie Bradbury chanted, walking his way and closing the door behind her. And Lucifer was relieved that even that didn't make him flinch or tense all over. He was okay.

“Hello, Miss Bradbury,” he greeted, smiling and offering his hand for her to shake.

The redhead's face beamed with joy, and she took his hand excitedly and shook it. “How are you, Lucifer? You look... good!”

That wasn't the right wording. What she had meant to say was that he looked nice. Friendly. Or at least a whole lot friendlier than he had ever been with anyone but Sam in these halls.

“I'm trying to be more honest with myself,” he explained, regarding the woman in front of him. She had always been supportive of him. She would continue to be. She could help him get where he needed to be. He could trust her.

Miss Bradbury nodded sincerely. “I'm so relieved your treatment seems to be helping you, Lucifer. With everything that...” She cut herself off, looking guilty. Rightfully so. She was not supposed to talk about anything that had happened. Lucky for her, she didn't know everything.

Lucifer let out a breath and calmed himself down. She was not the one he was angry at. She was on his side. “I'm starting to see the perks of it,” he admitted honestly. Raphael certainly helped him get by. Even if that meant he had to give him much more power over himself than he was comfortable with.

“Told you,” Miss Bradbury said with an awkward smile. Then she leaned a bit closer, almost too close, but still bearable. “You know that you can drop out any time, right? If it's too much, just talk to me or your older brothers. We can find you a clinic, if you need some time to recover.”

Lucifer looked away from her and around the still empty classroom. It had once been white, but could use a renovation by now. There were the traces of everything he still despised about this place. The walls were dirty from people kicking it, maybe out of boredom, maybe while shoving someone physically or socially weak against it, ignoring their strong mind. The tables were full of mocking comments, full of test answers the dull teenagers were too stupid and too disinterested to figure out themselves.

Nothing had changed here. The world was still full of people who deserved to be wiped out, if they only weren't too many for any one person to take them all out. Lucifer was still disgusted with the majority of humanity, still wanting to at least stay away from them.

What had changed was his ability to contain his anger and get rid of it with the help of running and music and art and whatever else Raphael let him try. What had changed was that he now knew his allies in this sorry world. He knew he didn't have a lot of them. He knew he should try to keep them, rather than to scare them away.

And he knew his biggest ally was worth going after.

“Thank you, Miss Bradbury,” he said slowly, looking back into her eyes. “But I have other plans.”

The redhead looked surprised, but glad. “Oh yes? What may those other plans be?”

Lucifer's lips curved into a smile, and his eyes gleamed with ambition and anticipation when he said, “I'm going to Stanford.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it. I know, the ending is kinda bittersweet and not very satisfying.  
> That's because I'm thinking about writing a sequel. I already got lots of ideas, it mostly depends on how much spare time I get in university.
> 
> I'd love to hear your feedback in the comments!
> 
> And if anyone's interested: My tumblr is [lifehappenedtome](http://lifehappenedtome.tumblr.com/).
> 
> //UPDATE//  
> Well, yeah. That sequel. Right.  
> I wrote the first chapter of it and then got distracted because so much was happening in real life. It's still possible, though. I think. At least I've got it all plotted out so if any of you wants to know how things develop (because honestly I'm not sure I'm ever going to finish this without the pressure I had with the Big Bang), feel free to ask in the comments or via tumblr. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story!


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